


we are made up of love and hate

by everythingislove (straykid), puddingandpie



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boy Band, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gratuitous Use of Twitter, M/M, Slow Burn, Social Media
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-03-03 20:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13348509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straykid/pseuds/everythingislove, https://archiveofourown.org/users/puddingandpie/pseuds/puddingandpie
Summary: Following a successful mini-tour around Europe (and at the high demand of fans) Kollektivet were going on a world tour. It was everything Jonas, Magnus, and Mahdi had been working toward since their first year at Nissen, and it was finally happening.But for the life of him, Isak could not comprehend why they wanted him to come along.Or: the one where Isak joins his best friends on their first North American tour and definitely does not fall for Even Bech Næsheim, their infuriating(ly handsome) opening act.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!! we’re back with another project together, and we’re super happy to be sharing it with all of you. we were brainstorming ideas and discovered with both share a (not so secret) love for famous au’s, and so this happened. we hope you all enjoy!

 

 

> **KOLLEKTIVET ANNOUNCE WORLD TOUR**
> 
> They’ve taken Europe by storm, and now they’re conquering the rest of the world! Hit Norwegian boy band Kollektivet have announced the first leg of a three part world tour, releasing 42 concert dates spread across North America and teasing more to come in Europe and Asia. This tour is a first for the boy band, an ambitious start to what we know will be an illustrious career. Kicking off in Miami, Florida at Marlins Park and finishing the US portion in the world famous Madison Square Garden, we’re so excited to see Kollektivet take over the US.
> 
> Their debut album _Oslo Shotgun_ is available to stream on Spotify, Apple Music and Tidal. Find Kollektivet’s tour dates below.

-

From the first day that Isak met Jonas, he knew that the boy would wind up famous.

It was clear from the determination in his eyes when he spoke of being a singer—the way he never cared about teachers calling his dreams _unrealistic_ and _impractical._ He took skepticism on as a challenge, and worked even harder to prove doubters wrong.

Jonas has a star quality about him. The kind of natural born charisma that draws every eye to him the moment he enters a room. Whereas Isak was content to linger in the background and go about his business, Jonas strived for the spotlight.

When they met Magnus in middle school, Isak recognized the potential there immediately. It was the start of something great, but not yet complete. It wasn’t until high school—when Mahdi joined their friend group and later, the band—that Isak truly realized his friends’ potential.

Jonas, Magnus, and Mahdi were undeniably talented. They clicked in ways that’s some bands could only dream of, and they each brought something unique to their little band. Which wasn’t so little anymore.

Isak has no idea how Jonas got lucky enough to find two other losers with the same dream as him, but now here the three of them are, nearly famous and getting ready to take on the world.

Following a successful mini-tour around Europe (and at the high demand of fans) they were going on a world tour. It was everything they had been working toward since their first year at Nissen, and it was finally happening.

But for the life of him, Isak could not comprehend why they wanted him to come along.

“We’re going to have a _tour bus,_ man!”

“Okay?” Isak sighs. He’s had the same conversation too many times now. “I’m still not going with you guys.”

“But it won’t be the boys without you Is!” Magnus pleads, flopping down next to him on the couch. Isak shuts his textbook dramatically and looks up, glaring over his glasses.

“I am not a part of your band. I have no musical talent whatsoever. The tour will be completely fine without me.” It’s a sentence he’s repeated countless times since they initially offered, but for some reason, none of his friends seem to understand.

“But the fans _love_ you!” Magnus sing-songs again, making Isak roll his eyes.

“The fans love _you_ , because they’re _your_ fans.” There’s a rustling in the kitchen, and the sound of pans clanging together, which means the last member of their apartment is now awake. “Mahdi, talk some sense into them please.”

“If you actually got on twitter, you would see that Magnus is right,” Mahdi replies diplomatically. Isak contemplates slamming his textbook into his head. Maybe a concussion would be enough to convince them he would not be going on tour.

“I have shit to do here. I have a life outside of you boys, you know,” Isak says, not bothering to mask his annoyance.

“Yeah,” Jonas snorts into his beer. “Sure you do.”

“I do!” Isak defends.“I have my courses. And—and Linn just bought that new plant! I need to make sure she doesn’t kill it.”

His protests sound a bit desperate even to him, but something in them must work, because after that the boys drop the subject—resigned to grumbles about the ridiculously expensive airline fares and Isak being _the worst._

And yes, he would love to come along and support his best friends doing what they love and pursuing their dreams. He just has a life here now, he’s been putting down roots here with them and someone has to stay behind and hold down the fort while they’re gone.

“Have you ever been on a tour bus?” Jonas asks, redirecting the conversation.

“No,” Isak says slowly.

Jonas sends him a grin. “You’re going to love it, man.”

“I won’t,” Isak gives his friend a stern look. “Because—for the final fucking time—I’m not coming.”

“Sure,” Jonas shrugs. The word is simple, but the tone of his voice lets Isak know that this is an argument he’s not likely to win. It doesn’t stop him from trying though.

-

 **@jonas9000:** Miami!!! we’re here!! so excited to be back on tour with ALL of the boys @reggismeggis @mahahahadi @isakwhodoesnthavetwitter

 **@jonaslover26 replied to @jonas9000:** OMG ISAK IS COMING I CAN’T BREATHE ADSJJSKSKSKJ

 **@lovevasquez replied to @jonas9000:** SEE YOU AT MSG LOML

 **@happymags replied to @jonas9000:** when is isak going to get twitter??

 **@jonas9000:** @happymags we’re working on it

-

Isak fucking hates the tour bus.

Maybe _hate_ is too strong of a word—because sleeping in the basement of the kollektiv was significantly worse—but he can’t pretend to be happy.

He wakes up every morning and whacks his head on the ceiling. The bunk is so small that he can’t sprawl out on his stomach the way he likes (he has to curl his feet up a little to fit properly) which has only amplified his normal issues with insomnia.

Not to mention the lack of privacy that comes with being on tour. There’s always someone bursting into the bathroom while he’s trying to take a shower, or demanding to see his badge when they literally just saw him walk off the bus. They’re only two days in, and he’s already been called a groupie by one of the techie dudes at a gas station.

And he knows he’s being ridiculous. He’s traveling Europe with his best friends, free of cost, and gets to experience VIP concerts every single night. There’s certainly bigger problems to have.

It’s just that this lifestyle has never been for Isak. He would have been content to stay in Oslo for the rest of his life—maybe traveling to Bergen one day if he had the wanderlust itch. He doesn’t care about screaming girls (or screaming boys, or screaming _anyone_ for that matter) and fame, or any of the other things that people call him crazy for wishing away.

And Magnus wasn’t kidding when he said he had fans.

He searches himself up on Google one night when the driver seems determined to hit every pothole on the road, and he finds a whole world he really wishes could have been left undiscovered. There’s fanart, and fanfiction, and entire accounts dedicated to him, which would be sweet if he had actually done anything to deserve it.

Isak has no idea why people would even give a shit about a 20 year old astrology major from Oslo who has done nothing remarkable and will do nothing remarkable with his life. Vilde, the public relations manager, has been just as on to him as the boys are about making a Twitter account. Apparently it would really help with tour promotion.

He likes Vilde, admires her for being able to manage three incompetent boys when their first instinct is to post every single thing they ever do to social media, but if she mentions “the benefits of social media” just one more time, he might go insane.

Which is why the moment the bus pulls into the sketchy rest stop, he doesn’t waste any time in getting the hell off. While the boys have to wait for their security guards to escort them, Isak walks himself into the gas station.

His stomach rumbles as he walks in, and he suddenly realizes that he hasn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. He cautiously approaches a display case with a few sketchy looking pizzas, eyeing them warily.

“Can I help you, kid?” The man at the counter asks, scratching his thick beard.

“Um,” Isak nods slowly, gesturing toward the case. “Can I get a slice of pizza?”

The man snorts but doesn’t comment,  slapping a greasy slice onto a paper plate. “Did you get off of that fancy tour bus out there?”

“I did,” Isak confirms, cheeks heating up. “I’m not famous though. I’m more—part of the crew.”

He’s met with a _humph,_ and Isak suddenly feels very small. “Can I pay for that now?”

“It’s on me,” the man eyes him up. “It’s not everyday that I get to serve a celebrity.”

“I’m not—” Isak sighs deeply, biting the inside of his cheek. After a moment, he simply nods, picking up his pizza. “Thanks, I guess.”

He doesn’t linger in the store any longer, heading back outside. The bus has been moved around to the back now, so he starts to walk toward them, all the while cursing its very existence.

“Isak!”

Isak is in the middle of cramming a giant bite of pizza into his mouth when he hears the shrill shriek. He turns toward the source like a deer in headlights, only to find a girl (and he means girl; she can’t be older than twelve) with tear stained cheeks and starry eyes.

He swallows harshly, haphazardly wiping the residual grease from his mouth. “Um,” he says, because _what the fuck._ “Hi?”

“It’s really you!” The girl apparently only knows one volume level: loud. “I told my friend I saw you, but she said I was crazy! Oh my gosh—can I get a picture? Please? I love you!”

Isak blinks dubiously. “You want a picture? With me?”

The girl nods eagerly.

“I’m not part of the band, you know,” he adds slowly. “I’m really no one important.”

“You’re best friends with the boys,” the girls says, grinning triumphantly. She looks as if she passed some important test that Isak wasn’t even aware he was giving. “So… picture?”

“I guess,” Isak murmurs. He doesn’t understand it, but he figures it’s an over excited fangirl taking what she can get.

So he poses for the selfie and beelines back toward the bus.

He turns around the corner as quickly as possible, but he doesn’t anticipate nearly trampling over three additional girls. They’re around the same age the other had been, and they have that same awful expression written onto their faces. This time, there is a parent with them though, and Isak thanks his lucky stars that there is at least one person here who will have some common sense. Maybe she’ll even understand that he’s _not_ a famous person and usher the three girls away.

Today is not his day.

The mum beckons to someone that he can’t see and then even more people come running. Which, Alright. _Fuck you too, lady._

Isak stumbles back from the forming crowd uselessly, holding both his free hand and slice of pizza up in the air. He’s trying to surrender to a group of pre-teens, which is entirely pathetic and he knows it.

But they’re frightening, is the thing. They’re staring at him like he’s a piece of meat, and he swears he sees himself posing with Jonas on one of their phone cases.

“I am not in the band!” He calls to them desperately. “I think Mahdi went to the bathroom, though! You should wait for him.” Mahdi will at least have a security guard or two with him. Isak is entirely alone.

“We love you Isak!” A group of them chime together, and simultaneous screams follow.

“Okay,” Isak replies uneasily. “I’m gonna go eat my lunch now.”

One of the mums walks tentatively up to him, a bit more reserved than the rest of the crowd. “Our daughters would just like a photo, if that’s okay. They’re going to the concert tonight, and it would make the day even better.”

“Maybe you could all just… line up?” It’s the world’s most awkward suggestion, but almost instantly the girls have assembled in a neat single file line in front of him.

The next ten minutes are the most uncomfortable of his life. Girl after girl approaches him, giggling about something or another. One plays with his hair like he’s a Ken doll, and another actually kisses his cheek without asking him. To top it all off, his knees are killing from having to bend down enough to even fit in the selfies in the first place.

“I need to go,” he announces when the final girl gets her picture. She was actually the nicest of them all; timid, polite, and generally respectful. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward the bus, clearing his throat. “Have fun tonight at the show.”

He doesn’t give them long to react before he is darting rapidly back towards the safety of the bus, a place free of twelve year old girls. He doesn’t think he’ll ever love the fucking bus this much again.

-

“How the fuck do you three deal with fans? How can you stand just standing there and being poked and prodded at like a fucking zoo animal!”

“Bro,” Jonas raises his brows. “They’re just excited sometimes.”

“Excited,” Isak nearly scoffs.

“Most of them aren’t like that,” Magnus contributes unhelpfully. “They’re usually pretty shy.”

“Wait, you saw it and did nothing to help me?” Isak narrows his eyes at his supposed friend. “What the fuck?”

“It was cute!” Magnus says back, a shit-eating grin on his face. “They love you, I’ve told you that all along. You should be flattered—they’re not that excited about any of our other friends.”

“You don’t have any other friends,” Isak deadpans.

“Anyway, Isak. Now that you’re in such a good mood, the opening act has arrived and we want you to meet him.”

“Great,” Isak says dryly. He openly pouts as he eyes his cold, soggy pizza, which is becoming more unappealing the more he looks at it, overly aware of the fact that he hasn’t eaten since breakfast.

“He’s coming on now,” Jonas knocks their knees together. “Play nice. I think you’ll like him.”

-

It turns out, _liking him_ was the understatement of the century. Because the opening act is none other than Even fucking Bech Næsheim. Isak doesn’t like him—he loves him. He’s had his music on Spotify for two years, since before he was signed with a proper label. It’s the sort of music that makes you think, deep but not overly so, and totally different to the 90s hip-hop that Isak says he likes whenever someone asks him what his favourite type of music is.

And Isak will never admit this, not to anyone, but it’s the only music that’s been able to help him get to sleep at night.

So Isak is standing in front of Even, gaping like one of the twelve-year-olds he was just ranting about. He’s a hypocrite, but he can’t do anything about it, because _Even Bech Næsheim is right in front of him._

He’s blank on anything to say, but luckily that doesn’t prove to be an issue. He might be starstruck, but Even doesn’t so much as glance his way.

“You’re Jonas, right?” Even grins. “I recognize the hair.”

Jonas laughs, pulling Even in for a quick hug. “Yeah, man. The obnoxious blonde one was is Magnus, and the one rummaging through the mini fridge for a drink is Mahdi.”

“I’m trying to be a good host,” Mahdi defends, offering Even a beer. “Want one?”

Even shakes his head. “I try not to drink when I’m doing shows.”

Isak can’t quite tell if the comment is meant to be passive aggressive, so although he raises his brows, he doesn’t call Even out on it. Besides, he doesn’t want to come off as a douche within the first few seconds of meeting his idol.

“Oh!” Jonas’ eyes widen when he realizes Isak is still in the room. He steps toward his friend, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “This is Isak, by the way.”

“Isak,” Even repeats. Isak tries to keep a neutral face, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his chest. “Do you handle sound or something?”

“I—” Isak blinks, mildly affronted. “No? I mean… no. I don’t.”

Jonas grins at Even like there’s nothing wrong with this interaction. “Isak is our best friend. He’s tagging along on the tour.”

“Yeah, for moral support and shit!” Magnus chimes in. Isak wants to slap him.

Even shoots the rest of the boys a look, half confused and half something else, his eyebrows furrowing. “Moral support. Right…?”

None of the boys have seemingly picked up on the frankly rude tone of voice and the implication that Even just made that Isak doesn’t deserve to be here. And he knows as well that he isn’t part of the band, so Even is right in saying there’s no reason for him to be here, but still. It stings a little coming from some stranger who’s just walked in.

Even though he’s not on social media, it’s never been easy to ignore the comments and articles calling him a leech. _Leech._ Like he wasn’t the one who told the boys they could make a name for themselves in the first place. He’s taken his fair share of criticism for a spotlight he never wanted, and frankly, doesn’t deserve.

Hearing those same ideas being implied by someone he looked up to, though? That feels like a sucker punch to the gut.

“I’ve known Jonas since we were seven,” Isak adds. He hates that he feels the need to prove himself now. “We’ve been best friends for ages, and we met Mags and Mahdi in high school.”

“Okay?” Even says with a quirk of his head.

An awkward silence settles over the room, where no one really knows what to say.

“Anyway,” Even says, standing up and moving over to the door of the bus. “Do you guys wanna see where we’ll be performing tonight?”

“Fuck yeah!” Magnus grins wildly. Jonas and Mahdi—both with beers in hand—share equally enthusiastic expressions.

The three of them trail after Even, chatting happily about how excited they are for this tour and everything that’s about to come. They don’t notice that Isak isn’t following them.

-

 **@kollektivetofficial:** excited to announce @ebnaesheim as our opening act for tour USA!

 **@ebnaesheim:** so grateful to have the opportunity to go on tour with kollektivet!

 **@faennaesheim:** holy fuck is this real???? even bech næsheim, kollektivet and isak fucking valtersen????? this tour has killed me before its even started

-

“Jonas, this was a fucking mistake.”

“Isak, I’m in the shower.”

Since the arrival of Even on the tour bus, there has not been a moment where Even has not been in his purview, meaning that he hasn’t been alone with one of his best friends for just one moment in order to tell them about what’s on his mind. He learned not to bottle everything up a long time ago, and never wants to repeat that particular time of his life. Interrupting Jonas mid-shower in their temporary hotel room is his last resort to catch his best friend for a moment alone.

“You don’t even want to know why I’m upset?”

Jonas sighs loudly. “You’re not exactly subtle. It’s pretty obvious.”

“I’m totally subtle,” Isak says, but something in his tone of voice must give it away as to how much this is affecting him, because the water turns off and the towel hanging over the railing at the top disappears. Jonas emerges a second later, a towel wrapped around his waist. He moves over to where Isak is sitting up on the bathroom counter, leaning against the wall in front of him.d

“Why are you upset?” He finally asks.

Isak blows out a long breath. “Because of Even.”

“Right,” Jonas flips his wet hair back off his forehead. “What has he done?”

“He thinks I’m leeching off of you guys,” Isak makes a gesture. “That I’m just riding your fame or whatever.”

“Did he say that?” Jonas frowns.

“No,” Isak admits, “not in so many words. But he implied it. Didn’t you hear him the other day?”

Jonas pauses for a moment, enough that Isak can see the memory in the front of his head as he replays it to remember what Even said.

“Honestly?” Jonas says after a while, shaking his head. “I don’t think he’s like that. I haven’t picked up on anything. Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding.”

“It’s not,” Isak grumbles. “He was a dick.”

“Alright,” Jonas just shrugs. “If you think he was a dick, then he was a dick.”

“You’re not even going to try and change my mind?”

“Isak,” Jonas says, shoving him lightly. “It’s you. When have I ever been able to change your mind?”

“Never,” Isak agrees.

“Exactly,” Jonas maneuvers around him, grabbing his boxers. He slips them on under the towel with practiced skill, and proceeds to chuck his sopping wet towel at his head. “I gave up trying to change your mind a long time ago. You’re a big boy, and you’ll figure this out on your own. I’ve got your back no matter what.”

“Thanks, man,” Isak pulls the towel off, making a face.

“Now if you don’t mind,” Jonas shakes his head, purposefully flicking water onto Isak. “I need to get ready for the show tonight. I’m kind of a big deal.”

“Drittsekk,” Isak snorts, pushing himself down off the counter.

-

Backstage is chaos.

Isak watches various people primp and prod at his friends—from the man shoving inears into their hands, to the intense woman with a can of hairspray in either hand. It makes him uncomfortable just to watch it, but it seems that they’re too high on adrenaline to care.

“We’re fucking do this, boys!” Magnus cheers, slinging an arm around Mahdi’s shoulders. He glances around, and when he spots Isak, quickly pulls him in too. Jonas steps over, and soon they’re in some sort of group huddle. Isak tries to step back, but Magnus’ grip purposefully tightens to keep him in place.

“Let’s kill it,” Mahdi grins. “We’re going to give them the best show of our lives.”

Jonas puts his hand into the empty space in the middle, raising his brows with a smirk on his face.

“If we’re doing that fucking cheer from middle school…” Isak says, rolling his eyes.

“We are—” Jonas starts in a dramatically deep voice.

“The boys!” Mahdi and Magnus yell in synch.

“You need a better fucking cheer,” Isak shakes his head.

“ _We_ need a better fucking cheer, dipshit!” Jonas replies, clapping him on the back. “You’re one of the boys, too.”

“And you’re on,” someone calls, interrupting them.

“Break a leg,” Isak tells them, “and some hearts, while you’re at it.”

“You know it, bro,” Mahdi nods, pulling the microphone out.

The three of them give him a quick goodbye before running on from backstage to hide behind a curtain and wait for their introduction to be finished. Isak stands off to the side, with a perfect view of the stage.

-

Five minutes into Kollektivet’s first show of their USA tour, Isak reminds himself to buy earplugs. All the earplugs he can find. Because their fans are fucking _loud_ , and while he’s happy for his friends, he likes being able to hear.

It’s captivating watching them, the energy and the passion that they have. He smiles despite himself, watching his best friends do what they love most in front of people that love them.

“They’re good,” comes a voice from behind him, and Isak turns abruptly to see Even standing behind him, sweaty and grinning. He has to force himself to keep a neutral expression, fighting the emotions that boil up inside him.

“They’re fucking amazing,” Isak corrects, refocusing his gaze back toward the stage.

“They deserve this,” Even says.

Isak doesn’t respond, his jaw tightening. He can feel the implication, that they’ve put in the effort to deserve this and Isak hasn’t. When he looks over his shoulder a few minutes later, Even is gone.

-

 **@mahahahadi:** thanks for a killer first show miami!

 **@reggismeggis:** WE JUST PLAYED THE FIRST SHOW OF OUR NORTH AMERICAN TOUR WHAT

 **jonas9000 posted on instagram:** friend burrito with friend burritos [][][] #getisaksocialmedia

-

For the rest of the boys, attending the concert after parties have never been a chore. For them it means free alcohol and a fun night, with a hook up at the end maybe. Isak, on the other hand, hates the sweaty clump of people that find themselves pressed together.

He liked it better in the old days, before they were famous, where the four of them would sneak off somewhere and get high together. Now, the moment they get into the club they all scatter, leaving Isak at the bar trying to avoid getting hit on by girls who recognise him.

Plus, his stomach is fucking killing him. He thinks he finally understands why the man at the gas station had given him that pizza for free—and it wasn’t because he was a celebrity.

After a while, he finds himself out in the alleyway behind the club, leaning up against the wall with his eyes shut, taking deep breaths to try and center himself. Nausea overwhelms him, the awful sensation of bile stinging the back of his throat.

“Do you want a hit?”

Isak cracks one eye open, scowling at the source of the offer. “The last thing I need is weed right now. Fuck.”

“Aren’t you used to this by now?” Even asks, casually standing beside him. He takes a hit from the joint between his fingers, blowing out the smoke slowly. “You must do this a lot.”

“No. I can safely say that I don’t make a habit out of loitering in strange American alleyways,” Isak mutters. He’s not in the mood to deal with this—with Even and his fucking passive aggressive comments.

“Well, thank fuck for that,” Even drops the bud, stomping it out with his shoe. “Come on.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Isak says quickly. He tries to take a step back, but the sudden movement sends another wave of nausea rushing over him.

“Isak,” Even gives him a look. “Don’t be ridiculous. You couldn’t get yourself back to the bus if you tried.”

“I’m not drunk,” Isak mumbles. “It’s that fucking pizza I ate from the rest stop.”

“From the rest stop?” Even lets out a small laugh. He sobers up when Isak sends him a glare, but the corners of his mouth still twitch upward. “Sorry, it’s just—never get food from a place that heats it with light bulb.”

“Noted,” Isak groans, wrapping his arms around his torso. He wants nothing more than to curl up in bed, or at the very least, his tiny bunk. He weighs his options, and finally sighs. “Can you help me get back to the bus?”

Even nods wordlessly, carefully looping an arm around Isak so that he can guide them. They walk in silence, and for a few minutes, Isak doesn’t feel that boiling anger anymore.

He reminds himself that Even is still a dick—this doesn’t change anything. It only shows that Isak isn’t as stubborn as everyone seems to think, and knows when he needs to accept help.

When they finally reach the bus, Even carefully help him into his bunk. Isak expects him to leave, maybe head right back to the party, but instead he grabs a small trash can and places it on the ground beside Isak.

“Thanks,” Isak manages.

“Sure,” Even clears his throat. He stands there awkwardly for a few moments, before gesturing at the bunk. “This must be new to you, huh?”

Isak turns his face into his pillow, biting his lip to refrain from screaming. _Definitely still a dick._

 


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii. thank you all for the response to chapter one! we’ve been having a lot of fun writing this fic so far, and we’re glad that you’re enjoying it too <3 
> 
> (tw for descriptions and discussions of a panic attack.)

**@isakyaki:** what am i doing here

**(@jonas900 retweeted @isakyaki’s tweet)**

**@reggismeggis replied to @isakyaki:** FUCKING FINALLY

 **@isakyaki:** never eat sketchy pizza. your stomach will make you fucking regret it

 **@bbyvaltersen replied to @isakyaki:** drink lots of fluids :( #GetWellSoonIsak

 **@vaporjonas:** someone better be cuddling my son and wrapping him in warm blankets and spoon feeding him hot soup right now #GetWellSoonIsak

**#GetWellSoonIsak is trending #5 worldwide**

-

“Bro, you’re trending!”

Isak moans into his pillow, not bothering to life his head. He feels like death, which  completely sucks, because he didn’t even have the chance to get drunk last night. No, he was too busy facing the repercussions of eating sketchy pizza, and spent the majority of his night curled up in the cramped toilet of the tour bus.

“Go away,” Isak mutters. He can't handle Magnus’ over enthusiasm most of the time, let alone after a sleepless night.

“Does little baby Isak have a little baby hangover,” Magnus coos in a mocking voice.

“Actually, he says he’s violently ill,” Mahdi calls from where he’s sitting engaged with Jonas in a highly competitive FIFA match. Magnus takes an immediate step back.

“Wow, thanks,” Isak says dryly, managing to crack one eye open. He tilts his head just enough so that he can give his friend a half-hearted glare. “It’s nothing you can catch unless you also ate pizza from the rest stop.”

“Are you an idiot? Why would you eat pizza that’s heated with a fucking lightbulb,” Magnus calls.

Isak lets out another groan. “I don’t need to be nagged by you too. I was _hungry._ ”

Jonas sighs, pausing the game of FIFA  and moving over to the mini kitchen opposite him. He reaches down into one of the cabinets underneath the sink, emerging with an unopened bag of Doritos. “You couldn’t have just eaten these?”

Somehow, the sight of the package seems to make Isak’s stomach feel even worse. “They were not there two days ago!”

“They’ve been there since we got on the tour bus Isak. Not my fault you didn’t know about the snack cabinet,” Jonas sing-songs back.

Isak shoves his head back into the pillow, trying to bury the rest of the world out.

He must eventually doze off, because the next time he wakes up it’s to the sound of music. He sits up—mindful not to whack his head against the bunk above him—and rubs a hand over his face. His stomach isn’t cramping anymore, which he takes as a positive sign.

He stumbles out of his bunk and into the bathroom, only catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His hair is wild, fluffed up in various directions, and his face is still flushed. The music doesn’t stop.

By the time he gets out of the bathroom, Isak is ready to give his friends an earful. He knows he’s scowling as he makes his way out to the front of the bus, frustration building in the pit of his stomach.

“What the fuck?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at the first person he sees. It happens to be Jonas, and he focuses his anger on him. “Do you have to be so loud?”

“Shit, sorry man,” Jonas gives him a sheepish smile. “We didn’t realize how loud we were being.”

“I don’t need to listen to your pitchy bullshit when I’m trying to sleep,” Isak grumbles.

“It’s actually a new song we’re working on,” Magnus cuts in, grinning like the overexcited puppy he is. “Even came over to help us work on it. If it turns out good, we might put out a surprise collab for the fans.”

Isak’s gaze snaps to Magnus’ left, suddenly noticing that Even is in the room too. He colors, though he’s not sure why, and subconsciously smooths his hair back.

“Yeah,” Even agrees, eyeing Isak. He looks annoyed, and Isak really doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve it. “I thought Jonas sounded great. They all did.”

“Right,” Isak says slowly, his own spark of anger stirring in his stomach. “I might have been able to appreciate the artistry more if you weren’t so fucking loud about it.”

“You might have been able to appreciate it more if you got up and worked like them,” Even nods toward the boys. He says the words casually, but they’re clearly meant to be a dig.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Isak sets his jaw, his fists clenching by his sides. “Really. Why are you such a fucking dick?”

“ _I’m_ the dick?” Even lets out a laugh at that. “You’re the one who marches around here with a holier-than-thou attitude. I’m sorry if you can’t handle someone calling you out on your bullshit.”

“Maybe we should all take a deep breath,” Mahdi interrupts. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding here.”

Isak ignores his friend in favor of stepping toward Even. “You’re the one who thinks that just because you’re famous, you know everything.”

Even rolls his eyes dramatically, his whole body tensing up. “You’re right. I might not know everything but I do know that you shouldn’t fucking insult your friends who are working! Unlike you, just trailing behind your hard-working _friends_ and doing shit fucking all!”

“Fuck you,” Isak spits in response. He’s nearly trembling with the force of the emotions coursing through him, raw and exposed.

He doesn’t remember storming off the bus, but he certainly does feel the harsh pang of pain that shoots up his leg when he kicks the tire. His chest tightens, vision blurring at the edges, and the realization that _he’s_ _having a fucking panic attack_ only spikes his anxiety.

Isak barely registers the yelling of his friends—or maybe it’s only Magnus, he really can’t be sure—as he leans back against the heated metal exterior of the bus and slides down. He gasps in a breath, putting his head between his knees, and tries to remember his breathing exercises. ( _Inhale for five seconds, hold for five seconds, exhale for five seconds, wait for five seconds… five seconds, five seconds, five seconds._ )

Eventually, Isak can feel the panic subsiding. He doesn’t know quite how long it takes, but his breathing slowly evens out, and the anxiety that once consumed him merely twitches at the tips of his fingers. He’s left with tear-stained cheeks and pain in his chest when he inhales too deeply, but the world seems to come back into focus. When he finally raises his head, he’s forced to squint against the blinding sun.

Only moments after he catches his breath there’s a sharp cold sensation pressing at the back of his neck, and Isak instinctively flinches away from it.

Jonas’s face peeks into his line of vision right after, wearing a half-concerned and half-apologetic expression. “Sorry man, it’s just an ice pack. It’s meant to help.”

-

 **@ebnaesheim:** but i’m just a soul whose intentions are good // oh lord please don't let me be misunderstood

 **@isakyaki:** no one likes a victim lmao

 **@softisak:** does anyone else think @ebnaesheim and @isakyaki are fighting???

 **@mahahahadi:** two sides to every story.

 **jonas9000 posted on instagram:** bros before bros #GetIsakAnInstagram

-

Jonas sits down next to him on the asphalt, so close that their shoulders are touching. He hands the ice pack over to Isak, bringing his knees up to his chest.

“Even stormed out too you know. After you left. Magnus started to give him hell,” he offers up hesitantly. Isak doesn’t reply—though he does place the ice pack against the back of his neck again—and the two of them mellow in silence for a while.

“He’s really been being a dick to you, huh?” Jonas eventually asks, filling the gaps when Isak doesn’t say anything.

Isak snorts, because if that isn’t a fucking understatement he doesn’t know what is. “Yeah. He really has.”

“I don’t think he’s a bad guy,” Jonas says, very diplomatically. “I know he’s acting like a dick, but maybe he’s just… having a bad week?”

Isak sends him a look. Jonas holds his hands up in a form of surrender, leaning back against an amp.

“I’m on your side, man. Always,” he continues. “But I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“That’s your biggest flaw, you know. You’re always giving people the benefit of the doubt, because you always want to see the best in them,” Isak mutters.

Jonas scratches his jaw, cracking a wry grin. “It’s worked out in the past, hasn’t it? I seem to recall you being skeptical about Magnus and Mahdi when we met them.”

Which—is a fair statement, honestly. Isak’s always had issues with trust and attachment, and accepting new people into their already small friend group wasn’t easy. He was good at finding character flaws in people and clinging onto them, just to have an excuse not to let them get too close.

Jonas, on the other hand, has always been the more social one. He’s better at charming people, and focusing on the best aspects of them. He views the world through rose-colored glasses, whereas Isak is a glass-half-empty type of person.

They balance each other out— _yin and yang_ and all of that—but moments like this make Isak resent their different ideas about the world.

“Sometimes people are dicks,” Isak says, with a bit more bite to the words than he intended. He gives Jonas a semi-apologetic look, but continues, “and not everyone has a reason. Especially people who are famous.”

Jonas gives him a wounded expression, and Isak quickly backpedals. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I don’t know why you’re acting like an asshole when I’m telling you I’m on your side,” Jonas says, frowning.

“I’m sorry,” Isak says, and he means it. He grew out of the habit of taking out his inner conflicts on other people years ago. “I really didn’t mean it like that.”

Jonas looks at him, his features softening. “I know you didn’t. But what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t call you out on your bullshit?”

“A bad one,” Isak sighs, curling his fingers up in the fabric of the sweatshirt he’s wearing. It’s definitely too hot to be wearing long sleeves outside, but since Magnus keeps the air conditioning on the bus blasting, he’s got no choice,

“Even’s gonna be our opening act for the rest of the tour, so you can go home if you want. But I really, really want you to stay okay?”

“Is this your way of telling me that we have to talk it out?”

“If you two really can’t make it work, we’ll find a new opening act for Europe and you can come on that tour instead.”

Isak places a hand on his chest in mock offense. “You weren’t going to invite me to the Europe tour?”

Jonas laughs, shoving him lightly. “You know what I mean dickhead.”

“I do,” Isak presses his lips together. “I don’t want your career to suffer because I’m having a little disagreement with him.”

“You’re more important to us than anything else,” Jonas says without hesitation. There’s a certain fierceness in his eyes that makes Isak’s heart swell. “Seriously. You just had a fucking panic attack over him, I hate seeing you like that. If it’ll help, we’ll conquer Europe instead of North America together.”

It’s tempting, honestly. Isak could spend the next few months of his life free of conflict; but then again, that would also mean spending the next few months of his life without his best friends. While he was initially reluctant to join them, deep down, he knew that going so long without seeing them would never feel right. So, though he does think about bailing for a fleeting moment, he shakes his head.

“We’re in this together. I’ll find a way to coexist with him.”

“You’re sure?” Jonas poorly tries to hide his relief.

“I’m sure,” Isak looks up toward the sky. It’s a beautiful day, entirely cloud free, and he thinks it’s a poor representation of his current mood. It makes him smile a little anyway.

-

 

> **are even bech næsheim and isak valtersen fighting???? an analysis by @thekollektiv**
> 
> psa: this is entirely speculation so if anyone wants to sue me for this please don’t im poor and in college xx
> 
> ANYWAY so we all saw the two tweets from isak and even this morning which has made me think that there are some tensions on the kollektivet bus.
> 
> now we know that isak valtersen is technology illiterate, so his spotify is still on public. we have screenshots going back years of him listening to even’s music, which means he's obviously a fan.
> 
> BUT as far as I can tell, isak probably had no idea that even was joining the tour, because it was announced super late for tour standards. so they probably met for the first time on the day of the miami show, since we got pics of even arriving at miami international airport late the night before.
> 
> also, as we all know, isak finally made a twitter. he’s already following the boys, the band account, and some members of the boys team, but he isn’t following even. it’s pretty weird that he wouldn’t have thought to follow him since he’s a fan, and is going to spending the next couple of months with him.
> 
> if that’s not enough, both even and isak tweeted (arguably) connected things. even posted song lyrics basically talking about his intentions being good and being perceived the wrong way, and then isak totally indirected him by saying something about people who act like victims. it’s so fucking obvious that something happened between them, and i can't wait for magnus to accidentally spill the tea.
> 
> tldr; even and isak had a fight last night and now might hate each other. no reason yet.
> 
> UPDATE: mahdi has just tweeted cryptically that there are two sides to every story. jonas would have sided with isak obviously so i think mahdi might have heard / be on evens side in this fight.
> 
> ANOTHER UPDATE: jonas has now involved himself with an instagram post. it’s a picture of him and isak with the caption “bros before bros” so,,,, that speaks for itself.

-

“I’m telling you, I’m with the band!” Isak lets out an exasperated sigh, running a hand back through his hair. It’s damp with sweat now, and he can’t help but grimace at the feeling.

The big, bulky security guard laughs. “Yeah, kid. And I’m the Queen of England. Go out to the front of the venue and wait in line like everyone else.”

“ _I’m with the band,_ ” Isak repeats, nearly growling the words out. “I forgot my pass back on the bus. If you let me go and grab it, I could prove all of this to you!”

He’s been arguing futilely for nearly twenty minutes now, boiling under the Miami sun. All he wanted to do was go for a walk around the venue, and somehow he had found himself outside of the restricted area. Of course, since he hadn’t been planning on wandering off, he also hadn’t thought to bring his backstage pass.

Now he’s sweating, annoyed, and half-tempted to get an Uber to Miami International and get a flight back home.

Eskild, the overworked and underpaid—or so he claims— manager of Kollektivet comes around the corner and into view, grinning at Isak. “Baby Jesus! We’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“Fucking finally!” Isak gestures wildly toward Eskild, giving the security guard a pointed look. “See? I told you!”

“Is there a problem?” Eskild raises a brow at the man, moving to stand protectively in front of Isak.

“No,” the security guard says, visibly wincing. “There’s no problem at all. Just remember to bring your pass next time.”

Isak is getting ready to tell the man exactly where he can shove that fucking pass when Eskild interrupts. “He’ll keep that in mind,” he says, reaching for Isak’s hand and dragging him backstage.

“What?” Isak asks when they stop, a little too much venom in his tone.

“Well hello to you too Isak,” Eskild says, rolling his eyes and bringing him in for a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

Isak softens a little, wrapping his arms around Eskild too. Maybe in another universe the only thing Eskild would be to Isak was the manager, if he didn’t find him drunk in a gay bar at age sixteen and bring him home to take care of him. They were a long way from that now though.

“Now,” Eskild starts when they break apart. “What is up with you and Even Bech Næsheim?”

“Nothing,” Isak tries to start, but Eskild cuts him off.

“Not nothing. I’ve heard it all straight from Jonas. What’s really happening?”

“He… he implied that I’ve done nothing to deserve being here.”

“Fuck, really?” Eskild says, running a hand over his head. Isak nods, watching as Eskild’s expression becomes more serious. “You know that’s not true right?”

Isak scoffs. “That I haven’t done anything to deserve being here? Eskild come on, I haven’t. I’m just friends with the right people.”

“You’re joking, right?” Eskild gives him a look. “Isak, when I met you, you were managing this band for them.”

“When we were in high school!” Isak’s cheeks heat up. “That doesn’t really count.”

“You booked them gigs, designed their logo—you even sent their demos off,” Eskild continues on like he hasn’t heard Isak at all. “You did all of the dirty work for them. They were working hard, and you were too. You’ve never been anything but supportive to them, and you’ve earned your place here.”

“You’re biased,” Isak murmurs.

“I am,” Eskild doesn’t even try to deny it. “But I’m also able to see what’s right in front of me. You deserve to be here. Anyone who thinks otherwise obviously doesn’t know you.”

Isak lets Eskild guide him back to the bus in silence.

-

He doesn’t go inside the venue for the show that night, but the screams echo all the way to the tour bus anyways. It serves as yet another reminder that he’s not the person that these people have come here to see; his absence is insignificant. He’s worth nothing on this bus.

-

 **@jonas9000:** miami u fuckin killed it. louisville ur next

 **@isakyaki:** is this where i'll finally get to eat kfc????

 **@sunshinejonas replied to @isakyaki:** wdym??

 **@isakyaki:** norway doesn’t have kfc

 **@mahahahadi:** if a single fan brings kfc to the next concert…

-

Isak can’t sleep. He knows it’s because there’s something weighing on him, because that’s the same reason why he couldn’t sleep all through high school. Even though Eskild’s words brought him some deal of comfort, he also can’t get his mind off of them.

He never thought he would be one to care what other people thought of him, but his friends have an international audience of millions. It’s hard to keep up a resolve when he can never escape the suffocating opinions of outsiders.

It’s part of the reason he had been so reluctant to get social media. He wasn’t naive enough to believe that every fan of the boys’ would be a fan of his, and was well aware of the Internet trolls out there who would eagerly criticize him. But he was certain that he had prepared himself enough for the inevitable backlash he would face.

Maybe this was landing so badly because someone was verbally confirming to him what all of the anonymous people out there were saying.

He rolls over onto his side and searches for his phone. The screen is too bright when it turns on, and he has to squint to be able to read the time, which flashes 3:52 at him. He wants to roll out of be and go somewhere on the bus where he can check twitter, as horrible as that’s going to make him feel. He wants to lie back down, shut his eyes and get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Most of all he just wants to stop feeling like this.

There’s one other thing which he hates about this tour bus. Jonas, Mahdi and Magnus are sleeping on one side of it. Isak is sharing his side with Even.

And, listen. Isak doesn’t consider himself a petty person, but he’s too emotionally drained and sleep-deprived to try and work things out between them yet. He’s prolonging the inevitable, but frankly, he doesn’t care.

After a few more minutes of simply laying there, he gives up on sleep. With a nearly inaudible grumble, he tosses his covers aside and ducks out of his bunk, as quietly as he can to not disturb the other sleeping people.

He decides to head to the living area, which has a door to block out sound. If he’s going to fall victim to his insomnia, he’s at least going to enjoy some awful late night television.

Isak opens the door, carefully shutting it behind him. He turns around, ready to flop onto the comfy couch waiting for him, but winds up stumbling back against the door when he notices a figure already sitting there.

“Fy faen!” Isak gasps, heart racing. He looks at Even with huge eyes, not able to keep the contempt out of his voice when he says, “I can’t get away from you today.”

“I didn’t know you’d be coming in here,” Even defends.

“Yeah, well,” Isak mumbles, letting out a breath. He contemplates walking right back out the door, but he really doesn’t feel like going back to his bunk. So in spite of the thick tension in the room, he walks over and sits on the opposite end of the couch.

He focuses on the TV, which is current playing some American cooking show, and tries to keep a neutral expression on his face.

“I’m sorry about our argument,” Even says abruptly.

Isak‘s gaze snaps toward him. “What?”

Even looks down at his fidgeting hands, clearly uncomfortable. “I saw you outside. After.”

Isak’s stomach drops.

“I wasn’t trying to be invasive,” he adds quickly. “I wanted to make sure you were alright. I didn’t realize it was a panic attack at first.”

“Well, I was clearly fine,” Isak says dryly.

Even’s eyes finally meet his own. “I really am sorry. I would never want to upset—or trigger—anyone like that.”

He looks so earnest that some of Isak’s resolve begins to crumble.

“Look,” Isak finally sighs. “I have an anxiety disorder. I can be triggered by a lot of shit.”

“Still,” Even pauses for a second, and Isak can see the conflict etched into his features as he struggles to decide whether he should continue. Isak opens his mouth to speak, but Even stops him with a subtle shake of his head.

“I’m bipolar,” he says at last. “I don’t know exactly what it’s like for you, but I know how it feels to struggle with your own mind sometimes.”

Isak vaguely remembers seeing a headline from some gossip magazine saying something about that, but he’d written it off as a rumor. With three best friends rising to fame, he’d learned that almost anyone could sell a bullshit story.

“Oh,” he offers up halfheartedly. He can see this admission for what it is—an olive branch.

“So like I said, I’m sorry.”

“You can stop saying that now,” Isak gives him a look. “Really. I forgive you, and—whatever. Why don’t we blame it on jet lag?”

He knows that things aren’t completely fixed between them, but he figures this is a decent enough start. Like Jonas had pointed out, he’s going to be spending the next two months or so stuck on a bus with Even—he might as well learn to be civil.

“Jet lag,” Even agrees, a smile playing at his lips.

Isak returns the gesture with a smile of his own, reaching for the remote. He scrolls through the channels, humming faintly when he finds one that interests him. He raises a brow at Even, gesturing toward the TV.

“How do you feel about Full House?”

-

Jonas finds them still there when he wakes up hours later.

-

 **ebnaesheim posted on instagram:** looks like im not the only one who cant sleep on tour #GetIsakAnInstagram

 **@isakyaki:** no


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! thank you all for the response to this story so far, we really appreciate it. welcome to chapter three, aka the chapter where we add another trope into this story. hopefully you enjoy!
> 
> (p.s. this chapter is also dedicated to caroline as an apology for telling her to die quietly. josie says shes very sorry and she doesn't want you to die, quietly or otherwise.)

**@jonas9000:** its not a Kollektivet tour if @isakyaki doesn’t burn simple food somewhere #twominutenoodles

 **@reggismeggis replied to @jonas9000:** eggs

 **@mahahahdi replied to @jonas9000:** spaghetti

 **@isakyaki replied to @jonas9000:** you’re all mean

-

“So are you and Even friends now?” Jonas asks a few days later, while him and Isak are engaged in a FIFA battle and he knows that Isak has nowhere to run and hide from this conversation.

Isak tugs one shoulder up in a half-shrug. “I don’t know if I’d call us _friends,_ but we’re going to be civil.”

“What about that thing he posted?” Mahdi asks, not looking up from his phone.

“The thing on Instagram? Yeah, what about it?”

“You have a ship name,” Magnus chimes with his mouth full. Isak has to hide behind a pillow to shield himself from the disgusting little pieces of popcorn that come flying out.

“A ship name,” Isak repeats, deadpan. The game of FIFA ends, but instead of Jonas going for a rematch like he always does when he loses, he turns the XBOX off instead.

“Yeah!” Magnus swallows, before continuing enthusiastically. “It’s Evak! The fans fucking love it. They have these theories that your fight was just sexual tension and that you must have fuc—” Before the token blonde can finish that thought, a pillow (courtesy of Isak) hits him directly in the face.

“Fuck off,” Isak says simply.

“He’s got a point,” Mahdi says. Isak sends him a fierce look, to which he smirks.

“A point? Mahdi, we live on a fucking tiny bus. You would have heard it if we fucked.”

“Not if it was in the stadium in Miami—” Jonas is cut off by Isak launching himself across the room, clamping a hand over his mouth firmly.

“I did not fuck Even!” He hisses.

“You’re right, we made passionate love,” Even leans against the entryway, a brow quirked in amusement. Magnus darts his head around to look at Isak, eyes wide and a wild grin on his face. Isak rolls his eyes in mortified exasperation.

“Oh fuck off, the pair of you.”

The atmosphere is awkward as Even moves through the small bus kitchen, digging through one of the drawers in the fridge and resurfacing with an apple, which he begins eating as he leaves again. The moment he’s gone, Magnus waggles his eyebrows again at Isak, who just flips him off right back.

-

 **@ebnaesheim:** never a dull moment on tour @briskebyband @eliasbakkoush @mikaelobass @yousefacar

 **@brisketbandfan:** anyone else ship mikael and even or is it just me?????

 **yousefacar posted on instagram:** i ship mutta with his head through the snare drum #3thousandbucksdownthedrain

-

The thing is, for the most part, life on tour is pretty dull.

For every two hours of excitement every show night, there’s an endless amount of waiting. They spend time waiting on the tour bus until they’re each their next destination. They wait for the crew to get everything set up at the venue. They wait until they can do souncheck—during which Isak waits for them to be done so that he has someone to chill with again. And then they do even more waiting until showtime.

It’s not as though Isak was anticipating the _sex, drugs and rock and roll_ lifestyle, but he didn’t imagine it would be quite so… boring. Like now, as he sits in one of the empty seats and watches his friends soundcheck, he’s left feeling jittery and anxious to do something.

He loves his best friends, he really does, but if he has to listen to them perform their hit single one more time, he’s going to combust. So while they continue soundcheck for their show, he decides to explore the (wonderfully named) KFC Yum! Center.

His original plan is to try and find KFC somewhere inside of the arena. This plan almost immediately fails when he realises that despite the name there isn’t actually one. He makes his way up through the bleacher seating—double checking that he has his backstage pass on him this time—and heads out into the general concourse area.

It’s somewhat eerie inside the venue so early to an event; empty save for the occasional security guard or crew member walking by. Isak wanders over toward a set of windows, peeking outside.

He’s shocked by the sheer number of people already waiting at the front of the venue. There’s got to be hundreds, maybe even _thousands_ , all standing in line. It seems silly for a moment (it's fucking hot in Kentucky, and they’ll be waiting for hours more) but then Isak remembers the time that he and Jonas camped outside a store overnight, in the middle of winter, just to get their hands on the latest video game, and he feels like he understands them a little better.

If he listens, toning out the echo of music courtesy of the boys, he can hear the fans singing to that same song. It brings a smile to his face to see such incredible support for his friends, and his heart swells.

Then the singing turns into screaming, and his admiration morphs to horror.

For a moment, he believes that something awful has happened. Maybe someone down there fainted from the heat, or a security guard was rough with one of them, or—

Isak squints. The people are waving their arms around frantically now, and there seems to be a lot of pushing and shoving going on. They’re acting the way mobs of fans do whenever they see his friends, and there, standing right at the railing guarding the entrance from said mob Isak can see Magnus.

And then his best friend does something totally unforgivable. He’s pointing up at the window where Isak is standing, yelling something at the thousands of girls who are clamouring for an autograph.

Logically, Isak knows that he’s perfectly safe. He’s two stories in the air and far away from those girls, for fuck’s sake. Except the irrational part of brain hears the screams amplify, and he can feel too many sets of eyes on him at once.

He tries to step back from the window, aiming for smooth and casual, but winds up tripping over a cord. In his effort to maintain his balance, he stumbles forward, only to smack right into the glass. Finally, completely disoriented and thoroughly mortified, he falls back onto his ass.

Great. Now that’s going to end up somewhere on YouTube.

-

 **@isakteppenyaki:** YALL ISAK JUST DID THE FUNNIEST THING IM CRYINGNGGD PLS TELL ME SOMEONE GOT A VID

 **@isakteppenyaki:** update- my mom goT A VIDEO i will post it asap

 **@madmahdi:** magnus was dying of laughter as his best friend wiped out i love one (1) man

 **@isakteppenyaki:** HERE’S THE VIDEO OF ISAK FALLING

**(@reggismeggis, @jonas9000, and @mahahahdi retweeted @isakteppenyaki’s tweet)**

-

With his face burning from pure mortification, Isak decides to abandon his exploring the venue in favor of heading back to the tour bus. Only he doesn’t exactly know _how_ to get back to the bus.

He’s used to following the boys—who are always guided by their bodyguards—or trailing after a flock of crew members with a pass similar to his own. Isak has never had to actually navigate any foreign place on his own.

And, okay. He’s not entirely helpless; he can speak English well enough, and he thinks he’s capable of deciphering signs telling him how to get to what place. He’ll be fine, and if he’s gone too long, one of his friends will send someone to find him anyways. Except—

Except Isak struggles with a little something called anxiety. Which means that the moment he starts to panic, his brain disregards rationality. So instead of recognizing any one of those reasonable solutions, he immediately believes that he’s going to wind up being stuck inside of the KFC Yum! Center for the rest of his life.

He wills himself to stay calm, swallowing even though his mouth feels too dry. The world around him feels like a blur, and he can hear his pulse in his ears. He barely registers the fact that he’s made it back behind the stage, more focused on remembering to breathe.

When he spots a door labeled  “Dressing Room #4,” he’s filled with an instant sense of relief. He’ll find one of his friends inside, and be able to relax, play FIFA, and calm down.

But when he actually opens the door, he doesn’t find his friends or an empty room. Instead, he comes face-to-face with a group of strangers, all standing near—who else—Even. There’s a paper on the table in front of them, and while they appeared to be in a deep discussion before, they all look up at Isak now.

One of them, a fucking giant, stands up, giving him an intimidating look. “Who the fuck are you?”

“That’s Isak,” Even says, mustering up a weak smile. He tells Isak each of the boys names, and for a moment, Isak thinks this might not go badly. Of course, that’s when Even has to make another one of his passive aggressive comments.

“He’s _friends_ with Kollektivet,” he says in that annoying suggestive tone of his.

Isak can see the way that the boys standing around Even immediately tense at that, shuffling around so that they are standing protectively around him.

“Friends?” Mutta asks, a twinge of something Isak can’t identify in his voice. He shrugs awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I’ve known Jonas since grade school.”

That’s the wrong thing to say apparently, because the atmosphere around them seems to sour even more. Isak can feel his heartbeat speed up again, unease spreading through his chest. He doesn’t show that to them though; instead, he allows himself to feel annoyed at the accusatory looks he’s receiving.

“We’re the band. For both Even and Kollektivet,” Adam says, but there’s still a twinge of acid in his tone, which makes Isak’s jaw tighten.

“Cool,” he mutters. He really intends for it to sound cordial enough, but he’s certain it’s bitter. “Are you looking over the setlist or something?”

They all glance at one another.

“Well, that isn’t ominous,” Isak grumbles. He steps forward, because he apparently has a death wish, and glances at the paper before they can grab it. “An article? You got a preview of an article?”

“Isak, this really isn’t any of your business,” Mikael says dismissively, passing the page to Even.

“Whatever it is, it’s about to be plastered all over the internet, so I can just read it whenever it goes online,” Isak retaliates.

“It’s bullshit,” Elias spits.

“Some shit from my past has been leaked on the internet,” Even finally admits. It seems to surprise all of the boys, who quickly turn to look at him. “My PR manager got ahold of it so I could prep myself, but…” He trails off, shrugging awkwardly.

“Shit,” Isak says, eyes widening.

Even lets out a humorless laugh. “Right? Millions of people around the world are gonna read this and think I’m an absolute asshole.”

At another time, Isak might have pointed out that he _had_ been behaving like an asshole to him, but he has enough empathy to bite his tongue.

“I could ask Vilde to see what she can do,” he offers, his mouth working ahead of his brain. “She’s gotten the boys out of all sorts of shit.”

“If Sana couldn’t hide this, no one can,” Mikael says. “She’s a badass; the best in the business.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Isak frowns.

Even wordlessly shoves the paper toward him. Isak looks down at it, reads the headline, and promptly winces. He was wrong, it’s not bad; it’s career-ending.

Mikael suddenly moves forward and shoves Isak, “This is why you don’t have _friends_ on tour.”

Isak stumbles back against the door, eyes widening with shock. He meets Mikael’s intense gaze with a harsh glare of his own, his hands clenching into fists. “What the fuck did you say?”

“I said,” Mikael leans closer, “this is why you don’t have _friends_ on tour.”

Isak swings. He’s not normally one for fights—he tends to be one of the guys who stands at the back and yells stuff rather than getting involved—but this time he can’t suppress his rage. He was already on edge from the near-panic attack earlier, and Mikael was provoking him.

Mikael responds with a punch of his own, connecting with Isak’s nose. The coppery taste of blood fills Isak’s mouth, and the others in the room are screaming at them to stop, but neither boy backs off.

Finally, someone hooks their arms under Isak’s armpits, yanking him away. At the same time, one of the other boys does the same to Mikael. Isak tries to squirm out of the grip, but whoever’s holding him is unyielding.

“Isak,” the person says. And of course it’s Even. Isak finally stops resisting, letting Even pull him close to his chest.

“Not so high-and-mighty now, huh?” Mikael taunts. Unfortunately, they’re a few feet apart now, and he’s just out of kicking range.

Isak spits at the ground, and the bloody glob lands on the tattered article. He snarls at Mikael with red stained teeth. “Fuck. You.”

-

> **EVEN BECH NÆSHEIM SECRETLY HOMOPHOBIC?**
> 
> Screenshots have emerged of Even Bech Næsheim, a rising indie music star, using quotes from the Quran as justification for homophobia in a group message almost five years ago.
> 
> [IMAGE]
> 
> [IMAGE]
> 
> With his _coming out_ video almost at 10 million hits on YouTube, fans are now starting to wonder whether all of that was just an act in order to gain fans and popularity. “I admired Even because he embraced the diversity so much of the world frowns upon. Those screenshots prove that he is not the same accepting person he showed fans. I refuse to support someone who does not support me,” said one devastated fan.
> 
> Still, some fans are defending Bech Næsheim with claims that he was “misunderstood.” and citing this as part of his coming out journey. Which side are you on? Let us know by using the hashtag #FridayScandalAlert

-

“What the fuck happened,” Eskild almost yells, pacing between Isak and Mikael who are sitting on opposite sides of the cramped dressing room. Sana is leaning against a table next to Mikael, her arms crossed over her chest. Vilde is sitting next to Isak, frantically typing something out on her phone.

“He provoked me,” Isak whines, but Eskild turns around furiously and shoots him a look.

Between the two of them, they are nursing a possibly broken nose (Isak), a black eye (also Isak), some bruised knuckles (Mikael) and a cut and bloody lip (Isak). Isak probably should have known not to fight someone bigger and bulkier than him, but what’s done is done.

“I need a better explanation,” Eskild demands. “I don’t care who hit who first, or who provoked who. I want to know _why._ ”

Isak shrugs when he meets Eskild’s gaze. “I’m as lost as you are.”

When Eskild turns back around to Mikael for an explanation, he also shrugs. “I don’t think he should be here.”

“None of us do,” Mutta adds. Their united front reminds Isak of the relationship he has with Jonas, Magnus, and Mahdi, and he might have appreciated it under any other circumstances.

Vilde looks up from her phone, her tone a pinch too defensive. “And why not?”

“Yes,” Eskild drawls, frowning. “I’d also like to know what Baby Jesus did to deserve your hostility.”

Surprisingly enough, it isn’t Mikael that replies. “Because the last time we had a friend on tour, it was a disaster.”

Even is leaning against the doorway, his head bowed in shame.

“Even—” Elias reaches over to place a hand on his shoulder, but Even dodges the touch.

“The last time we had a friend on tour,” he repeats, “it ended up with her putting texts from a manic episode I had five years ago all over the internet.”

“Even it’s not your fault,” Sana starts, but Even cuts her off.

“We always knew that this was gonna happen sooner or later.”

Eskild looks like he’s following this conversation well enough, but Isak got lost when they mentioned manic episode. Even looks at him again, like he knows that Isak is lost.

“Can Isak and I have a word before we do anything?” It looks like all of Even’s friends are about to start protesting this, and Even realises this as well, so he adds a please before they can say anything.

Eskild and Vilde immediately look to Isak to make sure that he’s alright with it, and Isak merely nods. He can’t hold Mikael’s actions against Even, and he doesn’t want to soil the progress they’ve already made.

Mikael stops in the doorway where Even is, whispering something in his ear and then patting him on the back, before following his friends and the PR team out the door.

Isak uses the back of his hand to wipe his upper lip, grimacing at the blood. He looks up, and finds Even staring at him with an apologetic expression.

“Do I look like a badass?” He asks, hoping to ease some of the tension.

Even’s lips briefly twitch into a smile. “You look like you took the worst of a fight.”

They lapse into an uncomfortable silence again.

“I’m sorry,” Isak says suddenly. Even looks up, surprised.

“For what?”

“For whatever I did that made you and your friends think I’m like your old friend,” Isak sighs.

“It’s nothing personal,” Even offers, like that should somehow make him feel better. “I think you—how you are with Kollektivet—it hits home with us.”

“They’re not Kollektivet to me, though,” Isak says slowly. “They’re just my friends.”

Apparently he’s said something right, judging by the way some of the tension seeps out of Even’s shoulders.

“I’ve known Jonas since we were kids,” he continues. “I knew him when he was getting booed off the stage at the grade school talent show because the older kids were jealous. I knew him when we would film music videos in his backyard, or draw an imaginary stage out of chalk and perform to our stuffed animals.”

He pauses, laughing wryly at the memories of his childhood.

“He’s done a lot for me, I’ve never tried to deny that. But the thing is, he’s been doing a lot for me since long before he became famous. I wouldn’t give a shit if him, or Mags, or Mahdi worked at McDonalds. I enjoy hanging out with them, and so I do.”

Even licks his lips, shutting his eyes for a moment. “This industry attracts a lot of bullshit. It makes me—us—defensive.”

“I get that,” Isak says, and he’s surprised to find that he means it. “I mean, I know that the boys have had to deal with that. All of a sudden, the people in high school who never gave a shit about them want to claim they’re old pals.”

“Right,” Even exhales, blinking his eyes open again.

“But like,” Isak’s fingers twitch, “it’s still fucking insulting.”

Even nods passively. “I… Yeah. I guess it would be.”

“Whoever burned you,” Isak shakes his head, “is an asshole. But I’m not them. It’s not fair to associate me with them when I haven’t done anything to them. If you’re going to hate me, hate me because of something I did. Like—punching your best friend in the face.”

“Yeah well–– I’m blaming that one on him. He goaded you into it,” Even says, and eyes Isak’s battered features.

The two of them are silent for a second, Isak watching as Even braces himself for something, probably to give Isak the explanation. Isak interrupts before he can.

“I don’t believe that article,” he murmurs. “We might not have gotten along well at first, but I don’t believe for a moment that you’re homophobic.”

Even presses his lips together. “The screenshots were real.”

“What?”

“I’m not homophobic,” Even says quickly. “I really am pansexual. But the screenshots were real.”

“So you… were you trying to joke around?” Isak asks slowly. He’s trying to understand, but he’s entirely confused.

“No,” Even swallows harshly. “I’m—I’m bipolar. And I sent those texts during a manic episode, when I couldn’t recognize that I was being manipulated. They were taken out of context.”

Isak tries to process that. Finally, he admits, “I don’t really know much about manic episodes. I don’t know what they’re like.”

“For me, I kind of get fixated on one thing, like finishing a certain project or something. And I _have_ to do it, damn everything else. When I was having that one, it was when I was kind of coming to terms with my sexuality and stuff. I tried to kiss one of my friends, uh–– Mikael, and he rejected me. I guess I fixated on his religion as being the reason, and so like I went looking in the Quran to see if that was why and I found all the homophobia and stuff.”

“Oh,” Isak manages. His mind flashes to his mother, and though his chest tightens, he feels like he understand at least a little bit. “That sounds hard.”

The words sound lackluster at best, but Isak doesn’t really know what else to say. “Do my friends know?”

“No. I was waiting for the right moment, but uh, it never really came up,” Even says awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Isak says, finally meeting his eyes. “Being bipolar, I mean. My friends—they’re chill about shit like that.”

Even’s face hardens. “You might think it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but you don’t know.”

“I don’t know what it’s like to be bipolar,” Isak says carefully, “but my mamma is a paranoid schizophrenic, and a lot of her symptoms are… religious. She sends me passages and shit too.”

The admission clearly catches Even off guard. “Serr?”

Isak gives him a half-hearted shrug. “So, that’s what I meant. You’re bipolar, my mamma is schizophrenic, and I have anxiety. We’re all a little fucked up, so why not embrace it?”

“I’m not sure fucked up is politically correct,” Even raises his brows, but his face breaks out into a genuine grin.

“Vilde would never let me hear the end of it if she knew I said that,” Isak agrees with a snort.

This time, the silence that follows is the comfortable sort. It’s clear to Isak that Even’s psyching himself up to tell him something, and so Isak just leans back and chills, waiting for Even to come to him.

“We had a friend come on tour with us. Sonja. She wasn’t so much a friend as she was my girlfriend, but she was my girlfriend solely because I was becoming famous and she wanted in on that. She’s a model now I think. Anyway, she was there when the whole Quran thing went down, so I think she might have leaked the screenshots.”

The missing puzzle piece suddenly slots into place in Isak’s head; why Even was so aggressive with him in the beginning, why all of his friends got so defensive when Isak said he was a friend of the band. “Oh,” he offers up weakly.

“I hate that she’s doing this,” Even says lowly, “and there’s nothing I can do.”

“What if you got a boyfriend?”

“A boyfriend?”

Isak can feel his face turning bright red with embarrassment. “The gossip magazines are all saying you’re faking right? They wouldn’t call you a liar if you had a boyfriend, would they?”

“I mean, they still probably would,” Even says with a breathy laugh, which ends abruptly when he realises that Isak is serious. “Where would I even find a boyfriend? We’re in the middle of a tour.”

“You don’t think any member of the crew is cute enough to date? Or at least, fake date?”

“It would need to be someone more believable. If I suddenly had a random boyfriend, people would know it was fake, and that would make things worse.”

He can’t stop the words from tumbling out, filling the awkward silence that had settled over them. “I could date you?”

“What?”

“I could date you,” Isak repeats. “We already have a ship name you know.”

“Isak,” Even sends him a look. “You don’t mean this.”

“I do,” Isak insists, making a gesture with his hand. “How hard could it be anyway?”

Even shuts his eyes and leans back against the wall. “Are you going to ask PR about this or are we just going to say fuck it and do it?”

Isak shrugs. “Eskild would love it.”

“Sana wouldn’t.”

“Sana can get over it.”

“If she heard you say that, I don’t know if you’d live long enough to see this tour through.”

“Sana loves me,” Isak says confidently. It’s maybe a little bit of a stretch, but still. “I know her from high school.”

“Besides,” he adds, “I’m not anyone important. I don’t need PR to clear all of my decisions.”

Even pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “This is a bad idea.”

“Probably,” Isak nods.

“Do you really think that it would help, though?” Even asks tentatively.

“I do,” Isak says. “I mean, I can’t make any promises, but I think you going public with a boyfriend would make any article about homophobia seem like bullshit.”

Even exhales. “Let’s do it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Even shifts in his seat. “Let’s be fake boyfriends.”

Isak blinks dubiously. “I didn’t expect you to say yes.”

“Well, it’s not like I have many other options, do I?” Even seems to realize how harsh that sounds, because he gives Isak a meaningful look. “Besides. There are worse fake boyfriends to have.”

“Wow,” Isak says dryly. “You sure know how to boost a guy’s self-esteem.”

Even laughs. “You know you’re fucking beautiful, Isak. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

Isak doesn’t even know how he could go more red, but he does. He rolls his eyes, looking down at his fidgeting hands.

“But we should probably take you back to the bus now. You need to get that nose looked at by a medic, and we should probably get you an ice pack too.”

And. Right. Isak’s face is definitely caked in dry blood right now, and his eye is starting to throb. He probably should have gotten some ice immediately, but there’s nothing to be done about it now.

“Jonas keeps a few ice packs in the freezer,” Isak says. “They help me calm down after panic attacks.”

Even nods, pushing himself up off the couch. He offers his hand down to Isak, helping him stand up too. “Does it hurt much?”

“No,” Isak says. It’s only a partial lie, because he’s been too distracted to focus on the pain. “Are you feeling better about your… situation now?”

Even grins. “Yeah. I really am.”

The sheer happiness radiating from him makes Isak’s heart swell. He should have known from that moment that he was fucked.

-

 **ebnaesheim posted on instagram:** alt er love @isakyaki

 

 


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to everyone who caught the typo that shaped isak’s major in this story lol. thank you all for the response so far, and we hope you all enjoy!!

**@lovevasquez made a twitter poll:** is @ebnaesheim and @isakyaki’s relationship real or pr stunt

genuine: 53%

pr: 47%

 **@evaktrash replied to @lovevasquez:** how about it’s none of your fucking business??? let them live

-

“What the fuck happened to your face?”

Isak is immediately bombarded the moment he steps foot onto the bus, his friends crowding around him. Even moves over to the mini fridge in search of the ice pack.

“His face? Who cares about his face! Since when is he actually fucking Even?” Magnus asks, but Jonas ignores him in favour of moving closer to Isak to examine the extent of the damage.

“I got into a fight with Mikael,” Isak mutters, taking the ice pack from Even. He places it over his left eye with a wince, choosing to ignore the latter question.

“You got into a fight?” Jonas repeats incredulously. “A fist fight? Where you actually threw punches?”

“Yes,” Isak grits out. “Why is that so hard to believe? I organized that fight with Penetrator Chris back in school.”

“And then you hid behind us the entire time,” Mahdi says.

“Yeah, well,” Isak huffs out a breath. “I was in a fist fight. Ask Even, it was one of his friends.”

Jonas’s expression darkens as he turns to Even. “You had your friend fight him? Serr?”

“I didn’t _have_ my friend fight him,” Even raises his hands up. “My friend chose to fight him off of his own free-will. I don’t condone violence.”

“Was anyone else around for this?” Jonas demands, his hands curling into fists; his biggest warning sign that he’s about to make this physical. “Or was it just Isak against you and your friend?”

“Jonas,” Isak sends his friend a pointed look. “Stop it. It wasn’t Even’s fault.”

“My friends and I were chilling in my dressing room when he came in. We were talking about some sensitive stuff, and my friends got a bit defensive,” Even explains. “That’s it.”

“Oh, so there was more than one friend involved in this,” Jonas shakes his head furiously. “This is some bullshit. Why the fuck would someone with back-up pick a fight with someone on their own?”

“You’d have to ask Mikael; the one who actually picked the fight,” Even says, finally showing some annoyance. “You don’t need to talk shit about my friends.”

“And you didn’t need to let your friend beat the shit out of my best friend!”

“Jonas please,” Isak says, moving so that he’s standing in between them.

Jonas continues to glare at Even, but he doesn’t make any move to step closer to him. “I’d like to have talk with Mikael and the rest of your friends. This is fucked up, and I’m not going to let it go.”

“Neither are we,” Mahdi adds as both him and Magnus step up behind either side of Jonas.

“That’s fine,” Even agrees, “you’ll be seeing them at the meeting, anyways.”

“Meeting?” Magnus asks with a frown.

“Oh, uh. Right,” Isak coughs awkwardly. “PR called a meeting.”

“Shit. Did Mahdi’s nudes leak again?”

“No,” Isak hesitates. “But Even and I announced that we’re dating.”

“What the fuck?”

“Jonas I literally just said that,” Magnus says, pushing his way into the centre and shoving his phone in Isak’s face. “What the fuck is this?”

On the phone screen is the instagram photo that he and Even just put up, with Even pressing a kiss to his bruised cheek.

“That,” Isak says slowly, “is a photo from Even’s Instagram.”

“No shit! Why is it on his Instagram? You said you weren’t fucking him!”

“I’m not!” Isak immediately says, a little too much defensiveness in his tone. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to center himself and make a little bit of the tension in his body disappear.

“It’s a business arrangement,” Even cuts in. “Isak’s doing me a big favor.”

“Is this a sex thing?” Jonas asks, failing to hide his disgusted expression.

“No, it’s not a sex thing. And if it were, you’re the last person in a position to kink shame Mr. Pink Fluffy Handcuffs.”

“We agreed that we would never talk about that again!” Jonas hisses, his face flushing.

There’s a pause, where they all shuffle around and get a good look at the injuries that Isak is now sporting. They poke and prod a little, but Isak brushes them all away with a flick of his hand.

“So you’re not really dating,” Mahdi asks.

“Fuck no,” Isak says quickly, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest.

Jonas raises an eyebrow. “So let me get this straight. You’ve hated him from the moment we started this tour, but when the gossip magazines get a hold of one little scandal you’re immediately offering to fake date him?”

This gets Even’s attention, the hint of a smile spreading over his face. Isak goes bright red.

“I panicked, alright! I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Fake dating doesn’t seem like something that would just come to mind, but okay. Keep telling yourself that,” Jonas rolls his eyes.

“Fuck that, I was rooting for you,” Magnus says, scrolling down the comments on the Instagram post. “Most people think you’re cute!”

“What the fuck do you mean rooting for me?”

“Well Even’s hot, and he looks like he’d be a good fuck… I don’t know, maybe the fan theories were right and all this hate _was_ just pent up sexual tension.” Isak doesn’t know if he can go redder.

Before Isak can reply however, the door next to them swings open, and Eskild storms onto the bus with a murderous expression. He walks right over to Isak, taking him by the arm. “You’re coming with me.”

Isak’s eyes widen. “This is Even’s fault more than it is mine! If you’re going to yell at me, at least yell at him too!”

“Oh, you’re both going to get an earful,” Eskild promises bitterly. “But first, I’m taking you the hospital to make sure you didn’t break your nose.”

“Just you and me?” Isak asks meekly.

Eskild’s eyes narrow.

“But I’m scared of hospitals!”

“Well your fucking boyfriend can join us then, how does that sound!”

Isak winces. “On second thought—”

Eskild pays him no further mind. He uses his free hand to take Even’s arm too, and begins to pull them along like they’re small children and not (mostly)grown men.

Once they’re out of ear shot from any members of the crew or lingering fans, he doesn’t hesitate to let them know just how colossally they’ve fucked up. “Why didn’t you clear this with me first? I can’t understand how you two thought that this was a good idea!”

“We’re in love?” Isak tries.

Eskild snorts. “Yeah, and I’m living on a private island with my billionaire husband.”

Isak pauses, not able to hide his surprise. “You know it’s fake?”

“Of course it’s fake! Two days ago you hated the guy!” Suddenly, Eskild stops, whirling around to face Even and jabbing a finger in his chest. “Me and you are having words after this about Isak’s place on this tour.”

“We’ve already––” Even starts, but Eskild cuts him off.

“I don’t care. You need to know that he’s earned his place here. You and your little friends.”

“We really didn’t mean to offend him,” Even says quietly, glancing toward Isak. “It’s been hard lately.”

“Everyone has their own shit going on,” Eskild says without missing a beat. “That doesn’t give them a free pass to punch others in the face.”

“I’m not defending Mikael.”

“Really? Because it certainly sounded like you were.”

“Could you possibly continue this at a time where I’m not covered in my own blood?” Isak interrupts, gesturing toward his face. While he hasn’t looked into a mirror, he can feel the dried blood coating his upper lip.

As if on cue, a black Escalade pulls up. After flashing his credentials to the driver, Eskild wordlessly opens up the back door and gestures for the two of them to climb in.

-

 **@angeliceven:** what if the tweets from isak and even a few weeks back were actually about the same person??

 **@kollektivetlads replied to @angeliceven:** they’re fake dating to get the heat off of them for other shit see this tumblr post

 **jonas9000 posted on instagram:** just another fucking day with these dickheads @reggismeggis @mahahahdi @isakwhostilldoesnthaveinstagram

-

The hospital is all bright white lights and sterile looking beds, a cacophony of noise all around him which makes his anxiety simmer just below his skin, threatening to burst at any disturbance. He’s about fourth in line, because although Eskild would call him a minor celebrity now, minor celebrities don’t get to skip the queue in public hospitals.

It takes ages for him to just get a hospital bracelet, and once he does they’re simply redirected to the waiting area.

“I have to go get all of this paperwork sorted,” Eskild gives both of them a stern look. “You two—wait here. Don’t make anymore work for me today.”

“I don’t think we could get into trouble here if we tried,” Isak nods toward the security station on the other side of the room.

Eskild glances over his shoulder, looking genuinely relieved. “Good. I’ll be back shortly.” Then, without wasting another moment, he heads back toward the receptionist to figure out all of the practicalities.

With Eskild gone, Isak and Even are left in an awkward silence—save for the usual noises of the hospital. Under normal circumstances this might not have bothered Isak; but as is, he’s trying not to focus on the fact that he can feel his nose _throbbing_ at the moment. He would welcome any type of distraction at the moment.

“You know,” Even says suddenly, watching him carefully. “If we’re going to be boyfriends, I should probably know a little bit about you.”

“Fake boyfriends,” Isak corrects, to which Even shrugs. He sighs heavily, scratching at the plastic hospital bracelet around his wrist. “Well, what do you want to know?”

Even pauses. “Are you in school?”

“I take some online courses,” Isak says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It sounded ideal, since I need to work and pay my own way, but… there was an incident.”

Even narrows his eyes. “What does that mean?”

“Uh—well, I signed up for the wrong courses by mistake, and I haven’t been able to figure out how to get out of them.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Even says. “They’re still courses you’ll need to graduate, right?”

Isak’s face goes beet red.

“How did you wind up in courses that don’t pertain to your major?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Isak says immediately. “Everything was posted in English, and I was sleep-deprived in high school so my English is shoddy at best.”

“Okay?” Even’s brows furrow.

“So when I was signing up, I saw _astrology_ and I assumed that it was a synonym for _astronomy._ ”

“Isn’t astrology––”

“The one with the star signs and the birth charts and shit? Yeah.”

“So you’re taking courses on zodiac signs?” Even bursts out into laughter. “That’s amazing!”

“It’s really not,” Isak mutters.

“Come on, it’s interesting,” Even gives him a gentle nudge. “Are our signs compatible?”

“What’s your birthday?”

“February 12.”

“Then fuck no,” Isak says without hesitating. His can feel himself turning impossibly red as he realizes that he answered far too quickly.

“Tell me then, Isak the astrology major,” Even says, leaning back in the rickety plastic chair. “Why aren’t we compatible?”

“Firstly, it’s not my major; it’s my _temporary_ major until I figure out how to get it changed. Secondly, you’re an Aquarius, which means you’re the innovator, and the strong boundaries which a Cancer needs means we don’t work well together. However, if both signs form a strong bond, it’s very hard for that bond to be let go.”

Even opens his mouth to say something, but he’s cut off by a nurse looking up from her clipboard and calling for “Valtersen, Isak”.

Isak stands up, giving Even a look when he does the same. “You don’t have to come back with me, you know. They’ll send Eskild back once he’s finished all the paperwork.”

“I wouldn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Is this because I said I’m afraid of hospitals?”

“No. It’s because I’m partially to blame for this,” Even says, gesturing to Isak’s face. He can tell that Even is set on this and that there’s no point in arguing, so he lets him follow him back to one of the rooms, and settles down into one of the chairs there.

(He doesn’t leave until Eskild returns, and even then he’s reluctant to return to the waiting area. The only reason he goes is because hospital policy only allows one person to stay in the room with him. Isak doesn’t let himself think about what that means.)

-

“I’m not changing into that,” Isak says, crossing his arms like a petulant child. “It’s not happening.”

“Isak,” Eskild pinches the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t optional. You’re changing into the gown.”

“I don’t want the world to see my ass!” Isak protests.

Eskild levels him with a look. “I don’t think the world wants to be exposed to your pasty ass either.”

Isak shouldn’t feel as offended as he is.

“Just change into the gown,” Eskild says tiredly.

Isak eyes the folded fabric wearily. “Can I at least keep my boxers on?”

“Please do,” Eskild says. “I don’t think anyone wants to see your pale ass hanging out.”

Isak tries to scowl, but it hurts too much. So he settles for grumbling unhappily while he tugs his shirt and pants off, and pulls the hospital gown on.

-

 **@kingjonas:** holy shit so my brother tripped and fell skateboarding right so i had to take him to the ER and fucking @isakyaki is sitting here (⅓)

 **@kingjonas:** in the ER as well all bruised to shit right hes got a black eye and probably a broken nose (check the sneaky photos) and look whos sitting next to him (⅔)

 **@kingjonas:** its his new boyfriend @ebnaesheim anyway i really think they’re dating now because even looks at isak like hes the sun its so adorable (3/3)

 **@evaktrash replied to @kingjonas’s tweet:** for everyone who thinks this is a pr stunt x

-

“There are already photos of you two on social media,” Eskild says, throwing his hands up in the air and collapsing on one of the chairs next to Even. The doctor, to her credit, doesn’t even react.

“Did they at least get my good side?” Isak asks sarcastically.

“Not the time,” Eskild says. “You two are in this now though. No backing out.”

“You make it sound like we married one another,” Isak groans. “It’s not that big of a deal. People break up all the time.”

“You would be crucified, Isak,” Eskild shakes his head. “You’re already going to be attacked by millions of girls.”

“Millions might be a bit of an exaggeration,” Isak says, but he knows it’s not. If Kollektivet are the biggest band in the world right now, Even is gearing up to be the biggest solo act.

Eskild shoots him that all too familiar glare. “This isn’t something you can joke about, Isak!”

“Eskild,” Isak sighs, wincing as the doctor prods at the bridge of his nose. “I can handle a few mean words from twelve-year-old girls, alright? It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s easy for you to say that, but you don’t mean it. You hate what people say about you for just being friends with Kollektivet,” Eskild points out.

“But I deal with it anyways. I’m fine. You don’t have to… worry about me, or whatever,” Isak mumbles.

“Of course I’m going to worry about you. You’re my son.”

“How many times do we have to go through this? I’m not your son. I hate it when you call me that.”

Eskild grins. “No. You said you hated it when I called you my _small son._ ”

“I’m not arguing about this,” Isak says, bringing one hand up to rub at the side of his temple. “My head is fucking pounding.”

“Which is why I’m going to prescribe you some pain medications,” the doctor cuts in, looking at Eskild rather than Isak as she speaks. “I don’t believe that he has a concussion, but if he starts showing any further symptoms, take him somewhere to get checked out.”

“And his nose?”

The doctor tilts Isak’s head gently, eyeing the damage. “I don’t think that it’s broken, but a technician will do an x-ray to be absolutely certain.”

“Great,” Eskild says, relief clear in his voice. “How long until we can get out of here, then?”

“A nurse will be by in just a couple of minutes to take him to the x-ray.”

-

 **@ew:** Even Bech Næsheim has released a full statement about his new relationship!  Read here

 **@PEOPLE** : Who is Isak Valtersen? Meet Even Bech Næsheim’s new boyfriend!

 **@MTV:** Even Bech Næsheim spotted at a Kansas hospital with his new boyfriend. View the exclusive video here!

**#EVAK is trending #1 worldwide**

**‘Even Bech Næsheim’ is trending #2 worldwide**

-

The results of the x-ray show no broken nose, which means that as soon as the hospital discharges him, he’s being herded back to the venue. He clutches a bottle of pain meds in one hand as Eskild escorts him to one of the rooms backstage, not giving him a choice in the matter. His phone is nowhere to be found, most likely confiscated by Eskild, but Vilde is kind enough to show all the gossip magazines that are now reporting on him, his injuries and his new relationship.

“Holy fuck,” he says, eyes wide. Sure, he had anticipated a little publicity from the stunt, but nothing like _this._

“Isak, when are you going to get it through your thick fucking skull that you’re famous now. You can’t just do whatever you want whenever you want to anymore,” Eskild says, rubbing his eyes. Right now, Isak is sitting up and facing the firing squad; Eskild, Vilde and Sana sitting opposite him.

The three of them are in damage control mode, firing off emails left right and centre in order to contain the fallout from whatever Isak has done. Right now, sitting here, he’s beginning to realise what exactly he’s gotten himself into.  

“Why did you do it?” Sana asks, looking up from her phone.

“And don’t bother lying,” Eskild adds.

Isak blushes. “I saw the thing about Even that came out and so I thought the best way to get the tabloids off his back would be to say he has a boyfriend now.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make, Isak.”

“I didn’t make it alone,” he protests. “Even was with me.”

“Even’s a public figure, as are you. Decisions like this need to go through the chain of command, so we can make sure that the likelihood of a bad outcome is slim. Actions have consequences,” Sana says. Isak can feel the shame and the guilt from being chastised build up in his stomach, and he looks down at his fidgeting hands.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, which is enough to cool Eskild’s mood a little.

“I know you are, alright,” Eskild says softly. “Now, you’ve just gotta let us fix this up, alright?”

“Alright,” Isak agrees meekly.

“And don’t worry,” Eskild reaches out, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We know Even wasn’t innocent in all of this. We’re going to have a nice chat with him too.”

“Like you’ll be able to scold him when he has those pretty eyes,” Isak mumbles quietly, only for Eskild to hear.

Eskild smirks. “Since when did you start noticing his _pretty eyes?_ ”

-

By the time Isak’s meeting with PR is finished, he’s exhausted. This entire day has been a whirlwind of chaos, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in his tiny bunk and sleep.

He opens up the door to the bus, prepared for sanctuary. Instead, he’s greeted by yelling.

“—don’t need any of you motherfuckers to _protect_ me from my best friend!”

“You don’t understand how people like him work, man! You won’t see it coming!”

“And you won’t see my knee coming toward your nuts if you don’t shut the fuck up!”

Isak places a hand over the prescription bottle in his pocket, his headache returning at full force. He’s itching for another pain med already, but he won’t be able to take one for another few hours. The doctor had insisted that sleep would help, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen yet.

He’s half-tempted to run back to Eskild and beg to use his bunk for a few hours, but when the yelling continues, he knows he has to do something. So he forces himself up the stairs, bracing himself for what’s sure to follow. “What the hell is going on?”

All heads snap toward him. Isak realizes that the boys from earlier are sitting on one couch, while his friends are sitting together on the other. From the looks of things, it's been intense, but it wouldn’t appear that anything physical has happened. He doesn’t fail to notice the red mark still on Mikael’s jaw, one that’s surely going to bruise. It satisfies him even though it shouldn’t.

“Nothing,” Jonas says eventually, returning his gaze to Mikael. “Absolutely nothing is going on. We were just coming to an understanding.”

“An understanding?” Isak asks tiredly.

“Yeah,” Jonas’s hands clench. “I told them that they’re not going to keep treating my best friend like shit.”

“Jonas—”

“It’s fine, man,” Elias says, offering Isak something akin to a smile. “Sana chewed me out too. What we did was shitty. And we’re sorry.”

“I’m not,” Mikael mutters. It earns him a smack upside the head from Adam. “Ow! Shit, fine. I’m sorry too.”

“Thanks,” Isak says dryly. “Now can you all get the fuck out, please?”

Mikael looks ready to respond with something that would likely end up in another fist fight, but Elias shakes his head before he can.

“We’ll go,” he says, but he glares at Isak nonetheless. He stands up, his friends doing the same, and slowly they file off the bus.

“Well fuck,” Magnus says, collapsing onto the couch behind him once the door to the bus closes. The rest of them follow suit, the tension in the room giving way with all of them beginning to relax.

“Apparently they had a bad experience with a friend coming on tour with them and they wanted to save us from when you went sour. Fucking bastards,” Mahdi says, the anger evident in his voice no matter how much he tried to disguise it.

“I heard. Even told me,” Isak says, shrugging.

“That’s not an excuse,” Jonas replies heatedly.

“But it is an explanation.”

“So you’re just going to let them get away with treating you like that?”

Isak shrugs again.  

Mahdi‘s frown deepens. “You shouldn’t let them walk all over you, man. That’s a bunch of bullshit.”

“We’ll keep them in check,” Jonas mutters. “Assholes.”

“I’m too tired for this shit,” Isak sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping. He probably _should_  be more upset, but it’s been a long day. “I don’t fucking care if they hate me. All I want is to go and get some sleep.”

He doesn’t give them the opportunity to protest as he walks right by them and back to his bunk.

-

 **@isakyaki:** i never got to try kfc

 **@isakandeven replied to @isakyaki:** kfc’s not just in kentucky silly it's literally everywhere

 **@isakyaki:** @jonas9000 we’re stopping at the next kfc we see

 **@jonas9000 replied to @isakyaki:** anything for you bro

 **@lovevasquez:** JONAS AND ISAK HAVE THE BEST BROMANCE FIGHT ME

**(@jonas9000 retweeted @lovevasquez’s tweet)**

 

 


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we really can’t thank you all enough for the love you’ve been showing this fic. it’s super fun for us to write, and we’re glad you’re enjoying it too. we hope you like chapter five!!

**@isakyaki:** how the fuck do people deal with heat? fucking 25 degrees is hot in norway and right now its 40. #timetodie

**@isaksblackeye replied to @isakyaki:** drink plenty of water!! stay in the shade!! i love u!!

**jonas9000 posted on Instagram:** the lengths norwegians will go to stay cool @reggismeggis

-

Nashville, Tennessee is fucking hot. 

Isak has spent the morning plastered to one of the bus’s air conditioning vents, sweating in places he didn’t even know that he could sweat. After Miami and Louisville, he assumed that he had faced the worst of America’s heat—but Nashville is worse. Much worse. He’s faced heat waves in Oslo before, sure, but nothing could have prepared him for  _ this.  _ He swears that he’s going to get sunburned even though he’s spent the past two days on the bus.

His friends aren’t fairing the heat much better than he is. Magnus has his head stuck in the freezer, Jonas has ice packs on his forehead and the back of his neck, and Isak is almost certain that Mahdi has been standing in a freezing cold shower for nearly twenty minutes now.

Read: Norwegians and the South do not mix well.

And fucking somehow, to Isak’s eternal despair, Even seems to be dealing with the sweltering heat just fine. There are no ice packs on him, he’s not sitting anywhere near an air conditioner. He’s just behaving like there’s nothing wrong with the temperature, while everyone around him slowly melts from the inside.

Eskild somehow doesn’t have an issue with the heat either, because he comes strolling through the bus, picking up Even and Isak and pushing them into the back room. 

“What do you want Eskild?” Isak says, frustrated that he was made to move from his mildly cooler position into the stifling heat of the unairconditioned room. 

“Look at this,” he says, shoving a phone in their faces. Even takes the phone and scrolls through it slowly.

“They’re a bunch of hate tweets,” Even notes, his gaze flitting up to Eskild’s. 

“Hate tweets?” Isak frowns. “Why are you showing us tweets from a bunch of Internet trolls?”

“They’re not normal hate tweets,” Even says. “They’re hate tweets about us. Most of them are ones calling us fake—a PR stunt.”

Isak looks back at Eskild with a stupid look on his face. “Some person on twitter doesn’t think we’re real. So what?”

“It’s not just one person, Isak. It’s a large part of Kollektivet and Even’s fan bases that feel this way,” Eskild says, snatching his phone back. “The fans are why we’re on tour at all now, we can’t piss them off.”

“I still don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“We need to prove that we’re in a real relationship,” Even says, since he is apparently following this conversation a lot better than Isak. “He wants us to convince them that this is genuine.”

“How the fuck are we supposed to  _ prove  _ we’re in a relationship while we’re trapped on a tour bus? Post another picture on Instagram?” Isak demands, putting air quotations around prove. 

“You’re going to do a livestream,” Eskild says. “You’ll answer questions from some fans, let them see how adorable you are together, and give them the content that they want.”

“Can’t Even do all of that on his own?” Isak shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t want my face all over the Internet.”

Both Even and Eskild give him an incredulous look.

“Baby Jesus,” Eskild says slowly, “your face is already all over the Internet.”

“I know that!” Isak snaps, cheeks flushing. “I meant—Instagram posts are different from fucking talking.”

“Hey,” Even offers him a slight smile. “It’ll be fine. You’ll have to do interviews and shit eventually anyways, think of this as practice.”

“Interviews?” Isak’s eyes widen. “Why the fuck would I do interviews?”

“Isak,” Eskild leans forward. “How many times do we have to remind you that you’re a public figure now? You’re not just the friend of a few celebrities; people are interested in you.”

“But why?” Isak will always be boggled by that. He cannot even begin to understand why people have such an interest in him. He’s never done anything to earn his spotlight and fans—he might as well be called Isak Kardashian.

“Because you’re a likeable person,” Eskild rolls his eyes. “Now, back to the point: you and Even are going to be doing a livestream.”

Isak opens his mouth to protest again, but Even speaks before he can. “I think that’s a good idea. It’ll seem more realistic if they see us interact. We’ll show them that we’re comfortable and in love.”

“Except we’re  _ not _ comfortable and in love,” Isak points out blithely. 

Even raises his brows. “Have you ever heard of acting?”

“You’re a singer. What do you know about acting?”

“I’ll have you know that I was the star of a critically acclaimed film called  _ The Dove Sings Her Tune _ .” 

Isak stares at him for a few moments in shock. “Serr?”

“Yeah,” Even says, smirking subtlety. “It was nominated in every single Oscar category. People call it the best movie of all time.”

Isak narrows his eyes. “You’re fucking with me.”

Even starts to laugh, nodding. “Did you really believe that?”

“It sounded realistic enough!”

“ _ The Dove Sings Her Tune?  _ That sounded like a critically acclaimed film?”

“Fuck off,” Isak says simply. He’s certain that he’s red up his neck and to his hairline by now.

“If I can interrupt your flirting for a moment,” Eskild says loudly, crossing his arms over his chest. He waits until both of them—now flustered and awkward—look back at him before continuing. “The livestream will be done this afternoon, probably after lunch. It’s really important that this goes well.”

“Some of the fans already think that we’re doing this for PR. I don’t want them to have anymore reason to believe that,” Even agrees.

“But we are doing this for PR,” Isak says slowly. 

Eskild’s shoulders slump. “You’re going to give me wrinkles before my time, Isak. Have you listened to anything that anyone has said to you since your little announcement?”

“Yes,” Isak says defensively. “I’m just saying—we’re doing this for PR. It’s hard to fake having genuine feelings for one another on something that’s live.”

“You two were just flirting like two school kids,” Eskild looks all too amused. “You’ll manage.”

-

**@ebnasheim:** having a live stream @ 1 pm ct, hope you all join us :)

**@evaktrash replied to @ebnasheim:** US?!?!? AJDKFKGKHK

**@evenbaenasheim replied to @ebnasheim:** YOU’RE DOING A LIVESTREAM WITH ISAK AREN'T YOU

**@lovevasquez replied to @ebnasheim:** i love my pr otp

-

“Is it working?” Isak asks, leaning closer to the laptop screen. “Are we supposed to being seeing someone else on here?”

Even laughs. “This is a livestream, not FaceTime; you don’t see anyone else. And yes, it’s working.”

Isak blinks dubiously at the camera. “And people are watching us right now?”

“There’s hundreds of people commenting that they have a lovely view of your forehead right now,” Even tugs the hem of his shirt gently, encouraging him to sit back. “I didn’t realize you were this technology incompetent.”

“I’m not technology incompetent,” Isak pouts.

“You are. You’re a grandpa,” Even teases, knocking their shoulders together gently. “But you’re my grandpa, and that’s all that matters.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “That would be cute if it weren’t incestual.”

“Hey!” Even turns his attention back to the screen, skimming through the comments. His smile widens as he reads through them. “The fans think it’s adorable.”

Despite his best efforts not to, Isak blushes.

“And is they’re saying that you’re adorable, too,” Even reads, sparring a fond look at Isak. “But I already knew that.”

“You’re way too fucking sappy,” Isak says. He’s completely embarrassed by now, and he can’t help but wonder how Even makes this all seem so easy. The other man is acting like he has actual feelings for him, showering him with more flattery in all of a minute than he’s gotten all year.

“Why don’t you guys send us some questions?” Even asks, addressing the viewers. “We want you to get to know us a little better.”

Isak catches sight of one question just before it disappears of the screen. “Someone wants to know what your favorite song to perform is.”

“My latest single, which is available on Spotify and iTunes now,” Even winks at the camera. “I want you to try asking Isak some questions too. Let him feel the love.”

Isak has to bite the inside of his cheek to refrain from making a particularly snarky remark.

“Here’s one for you,” Even hums. “They want to know how we met.”

Isak delivers a swift kick to Even’s shin, out of the camera’s view. To his credit Even doesn’t so much as flinch. 

“You know that’s a private story,” Isak says, forcing a smile. “We don’t need to tell them.”

“I think we should,” Even says, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “It’s romantic.”

“Well, if you want them to know so badly, why don’t you tell them?” Isak asks, voice sickly sweet.

Even blanches. 

“Uh, well–– we met in the bathroom?”

Isak has to fight to keep a neutral expression on his face. 

“We were backstage, on my first day meeting Kollektivet, and I was freaking out in the bathroom a little because  _ what if they don’t like me you know? _ And then this really pretty boy walked out of one of the stalls, and came to stand at the sink. And I noticed him peeking glances at me when he thought I wasn’t looking, because I was doing the same thing.”

Even pauses, turning to face Isak with a gentle smile then. “I knew I had to say something to him before he walked away, but I didn’t know how to start the conversation. So I reached over, grabbed all of the tissues from the dispenser, and acted like it was totally normal. Then when he looked at me again, I asked him if he also needed some of them.” 

He laughs, shaking his head. “I didn’t realize he was friends with Kollektivet, or that we’d be seeing each other every day for the next six months.”

For Isak, this livestream has been a lesson in blushing, because he doesn’t remember being this embarrassed in his life. They get hit with a few more innocent questions, but the one that hits the final nail in his embarrassment coffin starts off being just as innocent.

“Someone wants to know what the last song you listened to on Spotify was?” Even says innocuously. Isak doesn’t think much of it either, thumbing through his phone to look at his recently played list.

_ Shit. _

Isak was never a fanboy for Even Bech Næsheim, and he’ll stand by that until the day he dies. But he can acknowledge the fact that his music is pretty fucking good, and that his voice has something undeniable about it that never fails to calm his heart. He may  hate not get along Even right now, but his music is still the only thing that helps him combat his insomnia. 

So sitting at the top of his recently played is a playlist entitled  _ songs for sleep,  _ the cover of which is all four of Even’s album covers laid out in a grid. 

“Uh—” Isak starts, but Even leans over his shoulder to look at the screen before he can close it out. Isak can tell the moment that he realises what his answer is, because Even’s face immediately goes bright red. 

They both sit in a stunned silence for a few moments, until Even finally seems to remember they’re being watched by tens of thousands of fans. He looks back up at the camera, offering the viewers a sheepish smile.

“I guess my boyfriend is a pretty big fan of my music. I don’t see any other artists on here.”

“It helps me get to sleep,” Isak says definitely, but then he realizes how much worse that is. “I mean—it’s good music. I never said you didn’t have good music.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Even says, his expression oddly sincere. 

The livestream goes on for a little while longer, but the questions the fans ask are oddly easy to answer, and no matter what Even says Isak finds himself just going with it. He probably shouldn’t have found it as comfortable as he did. Isak tries not to read too much into that.

-

**@mahdisnudes:** THAT WAS THE CUTEST LIVESTREAM EVER THEY’RE SO SOFT WITH EACH OTHER

**@lovevasquez:** so what is the truth :eyes:

**@lovevasquez:** im becoming a convert to the evak is real theory someone save me

-

“How did you make that story up?” Isak asks once Even has shut the laptop off. It’s something he hasn’t been able to get out of the back of his mind.

“What story?” 

“The one about how we met,” Isak clarifies. “You made it sound like it actually happened.”

Even raises his brows. “You don’t remember?”

“What?”

“That wasn’t a story, Isak. That really was how we met for the first time.”

Isak frowns, shaking his head. “No. We met for the first time on the tour bus. I think I would have remembered meeting you.”

“You might not have recognized me because I was wearing a beanie and a winter coat at the time, but we definitely met. I’m wounded that my incredible flirting skills didn’t stick with you,”

“No fucking way,” Isak says, but now that he’s thinking about it, he does remember something about that day. He remembers his complete confusion, and having a good laugh telling his friends about the weird incident once their meeting was finished. But never did he believe that he had met Even Bech Næsheim that day.

“Yeah,” Even replies awkwardly, rubbing his arm. 

-

When Isak walks back onto the bus, it’s to the sight of Magnus and Jonas putting a suspicious amount of cartons of eggs into the fridge. He notices the packages of flour on the counter too, and he immediately knows that whatever they’re doing, it’s nothing good.

He sighs heavily, alerting both of his friends to his presence. “Do I even want to know?”

Magnus and Jonas look at each other, an unspoken conversation happening between them. They both turn back to him after a moment, shaking their heads.

“I’m going to bed,” Isak says, still eyeing them wearily. But despite his apprehensions, he starts walking back toward his bunk. “Don’t wake me up unless the bus is on fire.”

-

Isak never sleeps well in general, but it always seems to feel like he’s slept worse when someone wakes him instead of him being allowed to wake naturally. Right now, he’s being shaken awake by Jonas, who is muttering something that Isak’s foggy mind can’t make out.

“This bus better be fucking burning,” he groans, rubbing his eyes. He squints them open, and finds Jonas—who, upon further inspection, has egg dripping out of his hair and flour all over his hands and face—still looking there.

“What the fuck did you do,” Isak sighs sleepily, pushing himself up and Jonas’ dusty hands away. 

“The bus driver quit.”

Isak immediately shoots up, banging his head on the bunk above him. “Shit!” He hisses, his hand flying up to rub his temple. He narrows his eyes at Jonas

“What the fuck do you mean,” he whispers harshly. He can hear Even begin to stir above him and curses under his breath, awkwardly sliding himself down off of the bed and down so that he can stand next to Jonas. 

Even peeks his head over the railing of the top bunk. “What’s going on?” he says, his voice thick with sleep.

“Apparently the bus driver has quit,” Isak says with a forced smile, staring pointedly at Jonas. 

Even’s eyes narrow. “It’s like two am?”

“Yeah. He pulled over at a Waffle House and called an Uber.”

“And why, at two am, would our hard-working and dedicated bus driver suddenly decide to quit?” Isak says in a sickly sweet voice. Jonas looks down at the floor. 

“Magnus and I may have poured eggs and flour all over him?” At Even’s horrified look, he rushes to explain. “It was a prank!”

“How is that a prank?” 

“Uh––we were a little more stoned when we came up with it, but it’s funny?” Jonas tries to justify, but he doesn’t even look like he believes it anymore. 

“Not at in the middle of the night!” 

Magnus pokes his head through the curtain, the same flour and egg combination dripping off of him as well. “Do you guys wanna grab Waffle House?”

“You want us to come eat Waffle House with you. Right now.”

“Well, yeah,” Magnus shrugs. “We’re kind of stuck here anyways. Eskild is working on getting us a hotel, but he won’t stay anywhere with less than a four star rating.”

Isak spares a glance up at Even, and is surprised to find him looking back. “Do you like waffles?” He asks eventually.

“I like waffles,” Even nods, yawning. He swings his legs over the side of the bunk, carefully sliding down onto the floor.

“Can you two at least wash the egg off of you first? You fucking reek,” Isak takes a step back from Jonas, plugging his nose with two fingers.

“But—”

Isak fixes them with a stern expression, and instantly, the protest dies on Jonas’s lips. “Alright,” he resigns. He gestures for Magnus to follow him (Isak doesn’t even want to know why) and heads for the bathroom.

“How did you manage that?” Even asks, raising his brows. “You told them what to do and they just… listened.”

“Practice,” Isak’s lips quirk. “It doesn’t hurt that they’re a little stoned, too.”

-

**@reggismeggis:** it’s 3am and we’re at the waffle house on highway 70 south in nashville without a bus driver #tourlife

**@bagsofmags replied to @reggismeggis:** if i didn’t live in australia i would be there

**@bechvaltersen:** why do american fans get all the opportunities to meet the boys :///

**@daisymahdi:** i know they’re definitely going to get mobbed now but pls remember that it’s v disrespectful and uncomfortable for everyone!! be respectful!

**@lovevasquez:** holy shit i have never been so glad to be awake at 3am im on my way

-

“Magnus why the fuck did you tweet that?” Isak says, rubbing some of the sleep his eyes. Jonas buries his head into his arms. They’re all sitting around a booth in the half-abandoned Waffle House out in the middle of nowhere, some of the egg and flour remnants still clinging to Jonas and Magnus despite the quick shower that Isak made them take.

“I don’t know,” Magnus says, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“Aren’t we in like the middle of nowhere? Maybe we don’t have many fans living around here?” Mahdi says, shrugging awkwardly. 

Isak rolls his eyes. “Mahdi, you’re performing a sold out show about an hour away from here. How many fans do you think are in the general area?”

The realisation of how many fans actually live around this supposedly deserted Waffle House hits Mahdi like a freight train, the bite of waffles he was about to take hovering in mid air. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Isak agrees spitefully, “fuck indeed.”

“Have you tried these waffles yet?” Magnus moans around a mouthful. He has apparently already foregone any remorse for his actions, in favor of devouring the meal in front of him. “Fucking incredible.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Isak tells him bluntly. 

“They are pretty good,” Jonas agrees, pouring a copious amount of syrup onto the plate in front of him.

“They’re really not,” Even snorts, pushing his own plate away. “You two just have a bad case of the munchies.”

“I’ll take it if you don’t want it,” Magnus is already reaching out with his fork when Isak’s delivers a swift swat to his hand.

“If anyone gets the extra waffle, it’s Mahdi. He’s the only one I’m not pissed with right now.”

Magnus flops back against the booth with a pout. 

“You’re spending too much time with Eskild,” Jonas tells Isak, shoveling another forkful into his mouth. He disregards proper etiquette and continues with his mouth full. “You need to calm down. Relax a little.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

Jonas looks puzzled. “Yes?”

Isak grits his teeth. He has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but a hand on his elbow distracts him from saying it. He whips his head to the side and realizes it’s Even’s doing.

“We’re all tired right now,” Even says, looking at all of them. “Let’s save the arguing for a better time.”

Isak yanks his arm away, but he keeps his mouth firmly shut. He knows that Even is right—he’s grumpy on his best days, and when he’s tired, he’s far worse.

Magnus, oblivious to the lingering tension, suddenly shoots up in his seat. “Bro,” he says to Even, “did I ever tell you about the girl I fucked with the cat claws?”

Isak, having had to live through this story, tunes out, taking sips of his coffee while he scrolls through the twitter replies on Magnus’ tweet and tries to estimate how many girls he should be expecting to turn up in the next couple of hours that they’re stuck here.

The only waitress working in the Waffle House, a middle aged woman who comes over periodically to refresh their coffees, comes wandering over, a bored look on her face. “There are some girls outside asking after you.”

“Magnus, go and deal with them please.”

Isak should have realised his mistake the moment that he sent Magnus off to get rid of the girls, because Magnus has never in his life proven that he was able to follow basic instructions. Instead of getting rid of them, about five minutes later he came wandering back, about five teenage girls and two exhausted looking mothers in tow.

Even’s hand crawls around his waist, and Isak had to repress every instinct to not hit it away and move to the other side of the restaurant. He takes a deep breath as he watches the animated way that Magnus talks to the girls, almost praying that he can keep his composure and not snap at them and then cause a headline in a gossip magazine to read  _ Isak Valtersen Attacks Innocent Fans! _

And he does a decent enough job of that at first. While he doesn’t engage with the fans like the others, he doesn’t go out of his way to be rude to them either. He settles for scowling against the brim of his mug, and letting the bitter drink burn his throat on the way down.

Except, of course, one girl has to ruin that. She steps forward,  _ waves a hand in front of his fucking face,  _ and waits for his attention. When he lifts his gaze to glare at her, she seems to take that as an opportunity to speak.

“Hi Isak,” she smiles timidly. “Could I maybe get a picture with you?”

There are a lot of things Isak yearns to do in that moment. He wants to tell the girl that stalking is creepy, and that she can fuck off. He wants to ask her parents how the fuck they think this is acceptable behavior, and then tell them to fuck off too. He wants to climb onto the table, and scream at the top of his lungs that everyone seems to have lost their fucking minds.

But he doesn’t, because he can’t.

Instead, Isak sets his jaw, awkwardly scooting his way out of the booth. He exhales, and in a plain voice asks, “where’s the camera?”

If the girl senses just how unwelcome she is, she doesn’t react. She lets out a quiet squeal, wraps her arms around him like he’s a teddy bear, and beams at one of the older women who is holding up her phone.

When the picture is over, Isak tries to return to his seat, but the girls grabs his hand to stop him. “I have a question for you.”

“A question,” Isak echoes.

“Are you and Even really dating?” She asks quickly, glancing between them.

Isak tenses. “I’m sorry?”

“Are you and Even really dating, or is it a PR stunt?” She clarifies. 

Isak hesitates, but luckily Even is already jumping into the conversation. “We’re definitely together. Didn’t you see the live stream earlier?”

“Anyone could do a live stream,” she says boldly. Isak has to admit, she’s not wrong.

“Well, how could we prove it?” Even raises his brows.

“Kiss!” One of the other girls from the group blurts, which prompts giddy laughter from the others.

“Alright,” Even says with a shrug. He stands up, loops his fingers into the waistband of Isak’s sweatpants, and pulls him in close. And then he  _ kisses him.  _ It’s not just a peck, either; it’s sensual, and passionate, and somehow contains everything Isak never knew was missing from his previous experiences. He vaguely registers the ensuing excited squeals from the girls, but he’s too caught up in Even to pay it any mind

By the time they part, Isak’s cheeks are flushed, and both of them are panting quietly. Despite the fatigue, Even glances toward the group with a cocky smirk.

“How’s that for proof?” He asks.

One of the girls promptly bursts into happy tears.

-

**@lovevasquez:** I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING THEY’RE FUCKING REAL

**@lovevasquez:** THEY KISSED IN FRONT OF ME AT WAFFLE HOUSE AND THEYRE SO IN LOVE FUCK ALL YALL HATERS

-

Not long after the kiss, Eskild bursts through the entrance of Waffle House flanked by four security guards. The girls (by then, a group of nearly 30) are ushered out, while Eskild explains the accommodations to the boys.

“We’re staying at a Four Seasons,” he explains, “and we have a car waiting to take you boys there. I’ll find us a bus driver willing to start by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great,” Jonas yawns. “I’m exhausted.”

Eskild glares at him. “Don’t think you won’t be hearing about all of this, Jonas. I know exactly what you and Magnus did to poor Joel, and I don’t appreciate having to do extra work because you felt like being stupid.”

Jonas at least has the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, Eskild.”

“You should be,” Eskild sighs, shutting his eyes for a moment. “Now fuck off all of you, and go get in the car.”

-

The moment that Isak and Jonas are in their hotel room, they turn to each other with mutual stunned expressions. Isak is grateful that’s he’s not the only one still reeling from the kiss earlier.

“Bro,” Jonas breathes.

“I know,” Isak swallows.

“ _ Bro, _ ” Jonas repeats, eyes wide.

“ _ I know, _ ” Isak bites down on the inside of his cheek. “Did that look the way it felt?”

“It looked like you two were about to fuck on the table.”

“Then yes,” Isak flops back onto the bed, groaning at the ceiling. “I’m fucked.”

“You’re not fucked,” Jonas says, but he sounds doubtful. “You were probably just caught up in the moment.”

Suddenly, Jonas chucks his phone across the room and onto Isak’s bed. “Look at that.”

Isak reaches over to look at the phone, his stomach tying itself up in knots as he scrolls through what is ultimately the same photo and video a million times over. 

Fuck.

**-**

**#EvakKiss is trending #1 worldwide**

-

**@KollektivetUpdates:** the boys are not at waffle house. i just ran two miles with asthma to find this out.

**@KollektivetUpdates replied to @reggismeggis:** upon further inspection, this tweet was from yesterday. im the worlds biggest idiot.

**@jonas9000 replied to @KollektivetUpdates:** with great dedication comes great rewards. dm me x

**@KollektivetUpdates tweeted a photo:** guess whos going to the Kollektivet concert tonight!!!!!! #thankujonas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus points if you understand the reference of the final tweets in this chapter ;)


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!! this chapter is written from even’s pov, so you’ll finally get to know how he’s been feeling about everything. we hope you enjoy!!

**@reggismeggis:** taking applications for a new bus driver here #notmyfault

 **@jonas9000 replied to @reggismeggis:** but it is your fault???

 **@reggismeggis replied to @jonas9000:** THE EGGS WERE YOUR IDEA I VOTED FOR WATER GUNS

 **@ebnaesheim:** never a dull moment

 **@ebnaesheim:** also please don't go looking for us at waffle house. we’re not there and don’t want to be sued by your parents.

-

On every single tour that Even has been on, he has found himself sharing a room with Mikael. It usually a fun time, because him and Mikael have been best friends since they were toddlers, so they know how not to get on each others nerves.

There is one issue with it though, and that’s Even’s inability to keep a secret from him. Everything that happens to him always finds itself written in every line in his face, taut across his shoulders to weigh him down. It’s a language that Mikael knows exactly how to read, so the moment he flops onto one of the beds the laptop Mikael was looking at shuts noisily and the desk chair he was sitting at creaks as it spins around.

“I did something,” Even murmurs.

“Something bad?” Mikael says, moving over so that he can sit up next to him on the double bed, fluffing a pillow up to put it up behind him.

“I think so.”

Mikael narrows his eyes. “What did you do now? Sana is going to fucking flip if you’re giving her another mess to clean up.”

“Sana will be thrilled,” Even says, grimacing. “I kissed Isak.”

“You did what?” Mikael hisses. Even can’t fight the blush that springs to his face.

“I kissed Isak,” he repeats, softer now as the realization hits him. “Shit. I kissed Isak.”

“Why did you kiss Isak?” Mikael asks incredulously. “Was this another one of his fucking brilliant ideas again?”

Even shakes his head, giving his friend a look. “I thought I told you to stop being so rude. He’s doing a nice thing for me.”

“Yeah. If by nice you mean he’s using you for his personal gain,” Mikael grumbles under his breath.

“I heard that.”

“Good. You still haven’t answered my question, by the way. Why the fuck did you kiss Isak?”

“The girl asked for it?”

“What the fuck? What girl?”

“There were a bunch of fans who showed up, and the one girl wanted us to prove that our relationship was real. She suggested we kiss and I… I obliged.”

“You’re telling me that you kissed him because someone asked you to?”

“Yeah.”

“Bullshit,” Mikael says indignantly. “I know you; you’ve kissed maybe three people in your entire life. You don’t take that stuff lightly.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal, alright?” There’s an awkward silence for a while, while Mikael just stares blankly at him.

“Oh my god,” Mikael says dumbfoundedly.

“What?”

“You like him! Like _like like_ him ”

Even rolls his eyes. “We are not about to have this argument.”

“I’m not arguing! It’s obvious that you like him,” Mikael says definitively, but it’s devoid of any emotion.

“No it’s not!” Even replies petulantly, which makes Mikael raise his eyebrows pointedly, rolling off the bed and moving back over to his laptop.

“Whatever you say,”

Even just flips over and buries his head in the pillow.

-

 **@jonas9000:** make better choices than us, kids

 **@isakyaki:** what kind of idiots decide to smoke directly underneath a smoke detector

-

He’s standing out in the lobby, embarrassing duck pajama bottoms and all, with his arms folded across his chest. He’s managed to cover his bedhead with a beanie, and he’s shrugged on a tour merch hoodie, but he still looks like a complete wreck. To top it off, two fans have come up to him to ask for a photo, which by now he expects will be plastered all over Twitter, showcasing what he looks like at 4am to the world.

Eskild is over at the reception desk, whispering harshly at the receptionist in front of him. Said receptionist is looking increasingly panicked and flustered, trying but failing to keep the calm demeanour required of her alive.

“What the fuck were you two thinking?” Jonas hisses. “Did you not think that there would be a smoke alarm active in a fucking five star hotel?”

“We were a bit stressed alright,” Magnus tries to justify, but that just makes Jonas even madder. He’s standing up now, towering over Magnus, and shoving an angry finger in his chest.

“Well you should have fucking gone to sleep.”

Mahdi blinks blearily up at the two of them from where he’s curled up on one of the small chairs. He looks like he’s almost fallen asleep. “Sorry?”

“For fucks sakes,” Jonas says, rubbing his temples and collapsing back on his own chair.

Even smiles inwardly, the bickering in front of him reminding him so clearly of his own friends and their shenanigans. Why Mikael thought Isak was using them for their fame when Isak reminded Even so much of Mikael, he didn’t know.

When Eskild eventually makes his way back over to them, he does so with a pained expression on his face.

“You two,” Eskild begins, narrowing his eyes at Magnus and Mahdi, “I will deal with once I get my beauty sleep.”

“We love you, Eskild,” Magnus says in an overly sweet voice.

“As for the room situations,” Eskild turns back to the others, ignoring him completely. “Dumb and Dumber over there ruined the last available room with two beds.”

“What does that mean?” Isak asks.

“It means that two of you will having to share a King bed together.”

“Not happening,” Jonas says quickly.

“Yes, happening,” Eskild hisses. He looks furious then, and Even instinctively takes a small step back. “It was your antics that caused poor Joel to quit in the first place! I’ve been working my ass off to make new arrangements for the past three hours, and I. Need. Sleep.”

“Why don’t Isak and I go get the room keys?” Even cuts in. He decides that he and Isak—the only two innocents in all of this—don’t deserve to get chewed out with the others.

Luckily, Isak seems to think the same. He quickly nods in agreement, and steps closer to Even. “We can handle the room keys, definitely.”

Eskild eyes them both with vague suspicion, but sighs. “I can’t be bothered. Go and get the keys, then.” Both boys walk away together, ignoring the grumbling of Magnus, Mahdi and Jonas as they’re led tot face the wrath of Eskild.

“Thanks,” Isak murmurs once they’re out of hearing range from the others.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Even says innocently, shooting him a wink. “We’re doing this because we’re great people who want to make that overworked man’s life easier.”

“Of course,” Isak agrees, a smile playing on his own lips. He looks like he wants to say more, but before he can, they’ve already reached the front desk.

The receptionist looks borderline scared as Even and Isak approach her. She thrusts out her hand, two room key cards clenched tightly in them.

“We are so so sorry for the mixup, Mr Næsheim, Mr Valtersen.”

“Mixup?” Isak says, his brow furrowing.

Eskild, who has somehow made his way back over and away from the rest of the boys, interjects. “That you got put in a room with Jonas, not with Even.”

Isak’s eyes widen, and Even may have only known Isak for a grand total of three weeks but he knows when a disaster is about to happen. He reaches out and pulls Isak in tighter, putting a fake smile on his face.

“That wasn’t a—” Isak begins, no doubt about to correct the receptionist. He tries to shrug out of Even’s grip, but Even gently squeezes his elbow to remind him that they need to keep up appearances.

“Thanks so much for your help,” Even interrupts, not giving Isak the ch cue to say anything more. He takes the room keys, spinning Isak around and pushing him quickly away from the receptionist.

-

“I can’t room with you?” Isak hisses when they are safely in the elevator. “Or can’t we just switch room keys so I’m back with Jonas?”

Eskild shakes his head. “You were the one who suggested this fake relationship. Now you have to live with the consequences.”

“I was doing a good thing!” Isak defends, his voice more like a whine. “You should be saying you’re proud of me, not punishing me.”

“It was a bad move PR wise, so I’m punishing you,” Eskild replies with a look.

Isak rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, clearly sulking. Even probably shouldn’t find it as endearing as he does.

Their new room isn’t as fancy as the last, but that isn’t the reason why they find themselves frozen in the doorway as they look at it. Eskild, being Eskild, knows that right now is the best time to leave for him to avoid getting yelled at by Isak, so he makes his hasty escape.

“Right, well I’ll leave you two to get comfy then.” Eskild shuts the door behind them, leaving the two of them standing in the doorway, staring blankly at the single king size bed in front of them.

“So how are we going to do this?” Isak asks awkwardly.

Even hums faintly. “Well, sleeping generally involves getting into bed, closing your eyes…”

“Fuck off,” Isak mutters, setting his bag on the floor. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I know, I just don’t see why you’re making this into a big deal,” Even shrugs. “We’re sharing a bed. That’s all.”

“I guess,” Isak resigns with a sigh, finally stepping into the room.

Even doesn’t really pay attention to what Isak is doing while he finds a place for his suitcase. He eventually settles for placing them in the small little closet area, and turns around to offer to do the same with Isak’s bags.

He’s not expecting to find Isak situating all of the hotel supplied pillows down the middle of the bed to make a barrier.

“Serr?” Even asks, quirking a brow at Isak. “You’re going to act like a child about this?”

“I’m not acting like a child,” Isak says, placing another pillow down the middle of the mattress. “I’m acting like an adult, actually. Settling disputes or whatever.”

“You’re settling a dispute by building a wall of pillows,” Even snorts. He’s really not sure whether to be amused or annoyed.

“I’m making sure that we both have separate sides of the bed,” Isak mutters. He picks up one of the pillows, tossing it toward Even. “You should be helping.”

Even managed to catch the pillow with ease, but he can’t help smirking. “Are you trying to start a pillow fight right now?”

“What the fuck? No?” Isak scoffs. “I’m trying to get our bed made so that we have a chance of sleeping tonight.”

“Really? Because throwing a pillow at me,” Even tuts, “that’s grounds for war.”

“War,” Isak’s response is deadpan.

“War,” Even nods seriously, tossing the pillow back at him.

Isak blocks the pillow just before it hits him in the face, and scowls at Even. “It’s five in the morning and neither of us has gotten any sleep.”

“War knows no time limits.”

For an instant, it looks like Isak’s lips twitch into a smile, but it’s gone almost as soon as it appeared. “This is ridiculous.”

Even knows that he should probably drop the matter. He’s tired, Isak is tired, and there’s a good chance that if he throws a pillow again he’s going to get punched in the face. Yet he finds himself reaching for one of the pillows from Isak’s makeshift barrier, and leaning over so that he can smack Isak in the side with it.

“I’m not having a pillow fight with you at the five in the morning,” Isak says indignantly, crossing his arms.

Even swings the pillow again.

“Even.”

Another swing.

“That’s it!” Isak yanks the pillow right from his hands, using it to deliver a swift smack of his own. Even grins, grabs one of the other the pillows, and sends a retaliating blow to Isak.

Before he knows it, they’re both kneeling on the bed, pillows flying at one another.

Even finds himself laughing harder than he has in months. He’s got tears leaking from his eyes, and eventually collapses onto the bed with the force of it. His cheeks physically hurt from smiling so much, and he savors everything about his current state. There’s something to be said about such genuine happiness.

“Holy shit,” Isak wheezes, a massive smile on his own face. His cheeks are flushed, and it adds a certain brightness to his eyes.

Even can’t help himself as he softens, just taking in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the subtle gaps between his teeth. He’s enamored by the little details of Isak—ones that he’s never even thought to notice before. Which is… strange, to say the least.

When Isak blushes and looks away, the mood doesn’t seem to disappear. Instead, as the two of them crawl into bed, Even finds himself continually sneaking looks at Isak, marveling the blinding grin still on his face, and the way his hair has fanned out around his head like a golden halo.

“You know,” Isak murmurs. His eyes are closed, and he’s got an arm sprawled up above his head. “You’re not too bad, Even.”

“You’re not too bad either, Isak,” Even whispers. He glances over to say more, but notices the steady rise and fall of his chest. He’s already asleep. Unluckily enough for Even though, he doesn’t manage to fall asleep quite as easily.

-

 **@ebnaesheim posted on instagram:** goodnight my love <3

 **@lovevasquez:** if even and isak could stop personally coming for my wig that would be appreciated thx

 **@jonas9000:** google search: how to be roommates with someone who hates u

 **@naesheimstan made a twitter poll:** who is jonas’ roommate

magnus: 2%

isak: 2%

the guitar guy from the support band: 96%

 **@jonas9000 replied to @naeshiemstan:** his name’s mikael

**#JOKAEL is trending #1 worldwide**

-

Here’s a thing about Isak: he kicks in his sleep. A lot.

At first, Even tries his best to ignore it; he figures he’s just trying to get comfortable, or that he’ll settle down once he gets into a deeper sleep. So he tolerates the initial kicks to his shins, and shifts toward the edge of the bed to get out of the way.

However, after a while it settles into an issue that he can’t ignore. Even, in his half asleep state, doesn’t really want to move to the floor. He doesn’t really think through his next course of action, but by the time he’s done it the pain in his shins has stopped.

Here’s another thing about Isak: when he’s being held he won’t kick at all. He didn’t _mean_ for Isak to wind up sleeping in his arms; it just _happened._

Despite the messy process of getting into a better position on the bed, Isak has not stirred. Instead, he’s now taking these small huffy breaths that border on snoring, which definitely do not stir up butterflies in his stomach.

So Even is currently acting at the big spoon. He’s spooning with Isak. That’s apparently a thing now.

(For the record: he’s not complaining.)

-

 **@softvaltersen:** can u believe i stan two men who probably cuddled to sleep and then woke up and were just generally soft bc i can

**@ebnaesheim retweeted @softvaltersen’s tweet**

-

When Even wakes up the next morning, he instinctively stretches an arm out, expecting to feel the warmth of Isak’s body pressed against him. Instead, he’s met with scratchy hotel sheets and no Isak, which is not what he wants at all.  

He frowns, blinking his eyes open slowly. There’s light peeking through the gaps of the curtains, and a glance toward the alarm clock on the nightstand tells him it’s just shy of noon.

He reaches for his phone, and finds a single text illuminated on the screen:

**Jonas: what the fuck do you think you’re doing**

His tired mind starts to wake up at that. Isak must have told Jonas about last night, but before Even can respond there’s a knock on the door. Luckily for him he doesn’t even have to get out of bed, because Sana lets herself.

“You’re late,” she says, raising a single eyebrow.

“I’m on my way now,” he replies, blearily rubbing his eyes.

She raises a single eyebrow, like she has questions to ask, but then looks like she thinks the better of it and leaves the room as quickly as she came. It strikes Even as a bit odd that she came in instead of just poking her head through the door and looking at him, but he dismisses that in favour of rolling out of bed and grabbing his stuff hastily so that he can at least get to the arena on time. 

When he gets there he is immediately cornered. Jonas grabs his arm and pulls him to the side so that the two of them are hiding underneath the stairs in the backstage area, partially obscured in the dark. As Even’s eyes adjust to the semi-darkness, he realises that Jonas looks absolutely furious about something. He gets his answer in a second when Jonas shoves his finger in Even’s chest and hisses, “You didn’t reply to me this morning. What the fuck sort of game are you playing?”

“He curled into me!” Even hisses indignantly. “It was the only time he stopped fucking kicking.”

Jonas blinks, his expression hardening once Even’s words sink in. “You mean you _actually_ spent the night cuddling?”

“Isn’t that what you’re upset about?”

“No!” Jonas snaps. “I was talking about your social media spree last night. I know you and him agreed to do the whole fake relationship deal, but… don’t screw with him.”

“I wasn’t… I’m not screwing with him,” Even replies firmly. “I was exactly this way with Sonja.”

It’s not exactly a lie, either. When things with Sonja were still good, he wasn’t afraid to be _that guy_ who flaunted his relationship. They changed their Facebook statuses, made cheesy social media posts—hell, he’d gone so far as to write her a poem and post a spoken word video on YouTube. Except he got older, and she started being attracted to him for all the wrong reasons, and their public displays of expression became less genuine and more posed.

“Right,” Jonas doesn’t look like he believes him, but there’s not much more Even could say. “I want us to be cool, man. I hate all of the fucking tension. But Isak is my best friend, and if you fuck him over, I’ll fuck you up.”

Even cracks a slight smile. “I know you would,” he says honestly. “You do understand that we’re not actually dating though.”

Jonas stares at him with steely eyes. “You don’t have to be together to break his heart.”

He momentarily forgets how to breathe. Break his heart? Breaking Isak’s heart would require actual feelings between them; and while they’re coming close to being friends, he definitely wouldn’t say that there is anything more between them.

(Maybe there is, but Even knows that it would never be anything but one sided. He’s stagnantly refusing to confront that feeling though.)

“I’m not going to break his heart,” he finds himself saying, as much for his own sake as Jonas’.

“Damn right you aren’t,” Jonas makes sure to stare for a few seconds longer, before finally starting to walk back down the hallway. Suddenly he stops and turns back, and says almost as an afterthought, “Get your friend Mikael to apologise to Isak. He’s been beating himself up about it.”

Even physically winces at the reminder. He’s becoming increasingly aware of the divide between his friends and Kollektivet, mostly caused by his friends and their misinterpretation of Isak. He knew that it was his friends responsibility to suck it up and apologise first, which was always going to be hindered by Mikael and his stubborn streak. Adam and Mutta were starting to build bridges, especially with Magnus, but that was Magnus. He would get along with just about anyone.

He hates that they can’t all seem to just get along, but he knows that it’s possible. Maybe once everyone says their peace and puts their pride aside, they could all actually make good friends. But all of that won’t happen unless he convinces his friends to apologize, which will be a struggle in itself.

There's soundcheck and a whole bunch of other admin things which he has to take care of, but eventually he makes it through them all and heads to his dressing room, desperate for a moment of peace. The door to his dressing room is a little ajar, which as he approaches reveals the loud voices of his friends gathered in his dressing room. Why they aren’t in their own, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t question it either as he pushes the door open, none of them looking up or pausing their conversation to acknowledge him. Fucking dickheads.

“Where’s Yousef?” he asks, scanning the dressing room for the missing member of the backup band.

Elias’ face breaks out into a grin. “Oh you know, trailing like a lovesick puppy after my sister.”

The teasing and ribbing of Yousef in his absence breaks out across the room as Even chucks his bag down on one of the empty chairs, rummaging through it for his meds. It’s a testament to how long these boys have been around and how genuine their friendship is that they don’t even pay attention to this small part of his daily routine anymore.

Suddenly, Adam turns to him and grins wolfishly. “I saw the tweet you retweeted this morning.”

“What do you mean?” Even says, trying to play dumb even though he knows that that isn’t going to fly with his friends.

Elias tuts, throws on his glasses and pulls up twitter to read whatever Adam was referring to. “Can you believe I stan two men who probably cuddled to sleep and then woke up and were just generally soft because I can.”

Elias removes his glasses for dramatic effect, shoving them in Even’s chest. “Lie to my face and tell me you didn’t cuddle him to sleep.”

“It’s to keep up the ruse!” Even protests, but he knows that the blush on his face has given him away.

Mutta elbows Mikael in the side, a grin stretched wide across his face. “You were right!”

“What the fuck do you mean by that! I’m always right! Best friends instincts,” Mikael protests, elbowing Mutta back in retaliation.

“Now all Mikael needs to do is apologise to Isak for being a dick and then bam!” Mutta says, clapping his hands,“Dating can happen.”

“I think we probably all need to apologise for being dicks to Isak,” Elias says diplomatically.

“Yeah but we were looking out for Even. That should count as a point for us,” Mikael interjects.

“We pissed off his friends though. Probably need to apologise to them too,” Mutta says, and Even is so glad that at least one of his friends has the decency to realise that they as a group fucked up.

“The only reason we still have a job is because of a fucking contract,” Adam replies with a sigh.

Even tunes out of their chatter in order to process what the hell his friends are on about. When it finally sinks in, the blush that seems to now be becoming a permanent addition to his face gets redder, if that’s even possible. “Wait– Me and Isak, we’re not going to be a thing,”

The chatter stops as all of his friends turn around to shoot him a look that clearly says _are you an idiot._ For some reason, Even feels a little chastised.

“Shall we list the reasons why you like him again?” Elias says with a roll of his eyes. Even stares at the ground, shaking his head minutely in an attempt to save him from the embarrassment of having to recant every little detail that has brought them up to this moment.

The feeling isn’t embarrassment at all, although with the butterflies in his stomach and the blood that pulses under his skin it would be easy enough to mistake the two of them for each other. Even doesn’t have a name for what the feeling really is, but he also knows that it probably isn’t long before he works it out.

“Good,” Elias says, before they go back to their chatter. It isn’t long before they’re interrupted again, this time by a knock on the door. One of the stage hands pokes her head through the door, looking down at a clipboard in her hands.

“Mr Bech Næsheim, you’re up. Band consider this your five minute warning,” she says, and Even has never been more glad for an escape from a conversation in his life. Because he does an acoustic bit as his opening number, his friends don’t come with him now; they have an extra five minutes to do a few bits and bobs before coming onto stage.

He all but bolts out of the dressing room, and down to where all of his gear is sitting backstage. The cry of the audience gets louder and louder, which starts to hype him up for what’s about to come.

He grabs his guitar and goes out to the middle of the stage to sit on the rickety wooden stool, adjusting his mic when he gets there. He’s just waiting for the curtain to go up now, the anticipation and fear of performing starting to build in his stomach. He’s never really worked out if the cheers of the crowd are reassuring or terrifying, but now as the curtain is rising is not the moment to figure it out. He puts on his best smile, which somehow is still completely genuine despite how big it feels.

Even now, it still takes him by surprise that there are people in the audience at a Kollektivet concert waving signs for him.

-

 **@thekollektiv:** still taken aback by how good of a performer @ebnaesheim is. he's so genuinely in love with music. a gift to watch him perform

 


	7. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, we would like to thank you all for the response to this fic. it’s been incredibly fun for us to write, and we’re glad that you’re loving it too. we hope you enjoy this chapter, which contains resolutions, revelations, and general plot progression.

**@naesheimfan99:** i get chills when i listen to moonlight daze every. fucking. time.

 **@naesheimfan99:** the evolution of even’s voice from his first ep to now is unbelievable

 **@naesheimfan99:** if he doesn’t get at least one nom for the next album hes working on, im gonna sue

 **@isakteppenyaki replied to @naesheimfan99:** who are u and how have u listened to even's new album???

-

Isak didn't come into this expecting every moment of the tour to be wild and alive, but he's honestly surprised with how much lounging around there is. There isn’t much to do on a tour bus at all, and considering it’s such a cramped space there’s barely any room for them to get up and move around. That means that Isak has spent an entire solid day lounging around on the couch, playing FIFA and absentmindedly watching YouTube videos to try and pass the time.

Right now, they’re all on day two of bus confinement, and he’s exhausted everything interesting on YouTube and no ones really in the mood for FIFA, so right now he’s watching old Vine compilations and pretending that he can’t quote every word.

However, even though he’s complaining about having nothing to do, he’s currently feeling so exhausted that there’s actually nothing else he’d rather be doing. No one warned him how tiring going on tour was going to be, and he doesn’t even go out on stage every few nights and give his all, and Isak can tell that everyone around him is feeling it.

The bus doesn’t stop suddenly, it's more of a slow and gradual thing, so Isak in his blissed out and relaxed state doesn’t even notice that they've pulled up at a gas station. No one else on the bus moves either, so he just assumes that this is a petrol stop or something. It’s only when the bus door slams open that Isak jolts up.

“Everyone out!” Eskild says, grinning wildly. “You’re all going paintballing!”

“Sorry what?” Isak says, poking his head out of the bunk to look at Eskild, who is standing in the doorway and grinning. “Why?”

“In order to solve the tension between you and your band, you’re all going to go shoot each other with brightly coloured paint in a contest of hypermasculinity.”

All four of the boys groan at that, both the purpose of the trip and the vast amount of exercise it seems like its going to be. “You can’t just force us off of the bus,” Isak complains. “This is—it’s cruel and unusual punishment. For something.”

“Yeah, we have rights,” Magnus adds. “American rights.”

“It’s a good thing you can sing,” Eskild mutters under his breath, shaking his head. Even though Magnus probably wasn’t supposed to hear it, he still does, and he scowls at Eskild’s words.

“I don’t understand why we have to bond with them anyways,” Jonas eyes the other boys out of the window, who are standing huddled around each other in the mostly vacant parking lot where the bus has pulled up. “They were fucking assholes to our best friend, and now we have to play nice?”

“That’s exactly what you have to do,” Eskild says, the borderline fake grin returning to his face.

Isak lost the conversation when Jonas brought his attention to the band who were standing in the parking lot, and who were now looking back at the bus. He’s still staring at them even though the conversation has very much moved on, because something about them is standing out to him. It takes him another second to place it.

“Where’s Even?” Isak asks a little absentmindedly, when what he’s missing finally clicks. Even’s tall enough even by his friends’ standards that whenever they’re huddled together like they are now he’s is still the tallest, with his hair making it so he’s even taller. Not that Isak would have ever noticed that. He never stares at Even.

All three of the boys shoot Isak a pointed look at his tone. Isak has to fight off a blush from his face.

Eskild sighs. Loudly. “Even is feeling poorly, so he’s staying back. We’ve been through this. As for the other situation, we can’t break the contract with them, so I’d really like to see you get along.”

The latter part of what Eskild just said must have been the topic of the conversation that Isak tuned out of before, so he tunes back in and offers up a few half hearted arguments as to why they should be allowed to stay on the bus and sit this one out. However, Eskild refutes them easily, all the while maintaining the grin on his face, and before Isak registers it he has a backpack on his back and is moving slowly through the bus, waiting his turn to get off.

The grin on Eskild’s face, which is somehow wider than all the other ones he has smiled before, does nothing but make Isak angry at the fact he’s being forced to do something.

The truth is that Isak’s always wanted to go paintballing. It’s something on his bucket list, a something that he’s never gotten around to doing. If this wasn’t compulsory, and an attempt to make him and Mikael and all of their friends bond, then maybe he’d actually be excited and not bitchy about it.

Annoyingly enough, they are all herded off of the bus only to get on another bus, this one smaller and more compact. The minibus had arrived before Isak and his friends had gotten off of the tour bus, so they all managed to claim the best seats at the back of the bus. Even though he knew that Even was sitting this one out, seeing them without him still felt a little weird.

Jonas is behind him, pushing him out of his stupor so the rest of his friends can get on. There’s a clear and obvious divide between the two groups, and so when Eskild gets on the bus, he does the most typical Eskild thing Isak has ever seen and sits smack bang in the middle of the divide, grinning as he does so.

Isak attempts to stick his headphones in and stare out the bus window, which works for about the first song, but then one of Even’s songs comes on shuffle. The worst part isn’t even the song, it’s that Isak is so out of it that he doesn’t even skip it.

Big mistake.

Eskild has moved in the five minutes that they’ve been on the bus to sit next to him, pulling one of Isak’s headphones out of his ears. Isak’s heart immediately starts racing. “Isak, can you come and be social please?”

His heart stops racing a little when he realises that Eskild isn’t there to investigate his music taste, and in order to get him off of his case and allow himself a moment to change the song (and perhaps delete all traces of Even’s music off his phone), he pulls the other earphone out and moves himself around so that he at least looks like he’s engaged in whatever the hell conversation is going on.

The conversation, much to his eternal displeasure, is focused on Even as well. Magnus is trying his best to determine why Even isn’t here, mostly because of the way that he absolutely idolises Even. Even’s friends however, are not relenting, spitting the same bullshit line of how Even was coming down with the flu.

The anger boils up inside Isak unexpectedly. “Is Even really sick or does he just not want to be here?”

The moment the words leave his tongue he regrets them, as the tension in the room thickens exponentially. Every single one of Even’s friends immediately change, their reactions ranging from Mikael’s daggers and the way that Mutta suddenly can’t meet his eyes.

“Fuck you,” Mikael spits. He looks like he wants to get up, but Elias grips his bicep to keep him in place. “You’re such an asshole, Valtersen.”

“I’m so fucking lost,” Isak groans. “What did I do to get you all mad now? Seriously. I don’t know what I said that was so bad?”

“You’re talking shit about Even,” Mikael snaps.

“No I’m not?” Isak sends him an incredulous look, suddenly feeling like he’s missed the joke. When he looks around at his friends, they all are displaying equal looks of confusion, reassuring him slightly. Then they turn to stare at him like they can’t decide if he’s being serious or not.

“I thought he would have told you by now,” Elias mutters, before Yousef clamps a hand over his mouth and shoots him a dirtier look than Isak thought Yousef was capable of.

That’s the last bit of information that Isak can get out of them, because no matter how much he asks they’ve all clammed up and are now refusing to speak about Elias’ cryptic words. Isak can tell that Eskild knows what they are talking about too, because he’s moved away from where he was sitting next to Isak before, and is now tapping away frantically on his phone at the front of the bus, where no one can see what he’s doing.

The remainder of the bus ride is awkward and painful, and not even Even’s crooning voice in his ear can make the feeling in his chest that something is really wrong.

-

 **@naesheimfan99:** please send ur well wishes to even bc he’s feeling poorly rn <3

 **@madmahdi replied to @naesheimfan99:** how would u know that?? lol fake news

 **@ebnaesheim:** not feeling so great rn. sad to be missing out on the paintball fun #bonding

 **@madmahdi replied to @ebnaesheim:** WHAT THE FUCK @naesheimfan99

-

Paintballing is aggressive. Like incredibly aggressive. Eskild wasn’t wrong when he called it a display of hypermasculinity. Isak knew that he would be feeling some of the bruises he now had for days after.

The actual place itself as well was kind of amazing. It wasn’t in an indoor arena like he was expecting, but outdoors in a forest, with a majority of the trees covered in paint and the remnants of other paintball games.

Isak would never admit this either, but Eskild’s idea was solid, and the whole paintballing experience would now provide a good basis for them all to get alone. That basis though was fragile right now, and even Isak didn’t want to do anything to fuck it up.

There had been tension from the get go, starting with Mikael and Jonas brawling it out about team sizes. Jonas had been very firmly against one of the instructors joining their team to balance it out, even though Mikael was being very pushy to try and make that happen.

After that, it was instructions and gear and then suddenly Isak found himself being barraged from every angle by multi-coloured paintballs.

He was lucky that Jonas and him were outdoorsy as kids—albeit mostly because Jonas wanted an adventure and dragged Isak along for the ride—because he definitely needed it for this group activity. Right now he’s sitting in a tree and waiting for unsuspecting victims to come running along underneath so that he can shoot them.

His stomach leaps when the first person he spots happens to be Mikael, and it sends a thrill up his spine. He finally has a chance to get his revenge, but he hesitates just before pulling the trigger when he notices Yousef is with him. The latter boy has a murderous look on his face, and he can hear their heated conversation as they approach.

“You need to give it up with Isak alright,” Yousef hisses, shoving the butt of his gun into Mikael’s chest. “Even doesn’t like it.”

“But––” Mikael tries to protest. Yousef shoots him a dirty look.

“It’s also pretty shitty,” Yousef adds. “You’re a dick to him even when he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t seem like that bad of a guy of you would give him a fair chance.”

“I’m trying to look out for Even.”

“By acting like a jerk to the guy who’s trying to help him?”

Mikael has the decency to shrink back at those words. “You know how Even is. He’ll dive in blindly without thinking about how it’ll impact him in the long run. I’m just trying to lookout for him.”

“Maybe you should start by actually thinking about what he wants,” Yousef lowers the paintball gun, still glaring at his friend. “Get whatever fucking grudge you have against him out of your system today, and then move on.”

-

Somehow Mikael manages to corner Isak at every turn after that. The subsequent bruises hurt, but when Mikael claps him on the back and grudgingly admits that Isak played a good game, they start to hurt a little less.

-

 **jonas9000 posted on instagram:** multicoloured marks #kollektivettakespaintballing

 **eliasfraoslo posted on instagram:** thats gonna leave a bruise #kollektivettakespaintballing

 **reggismeggis posted on instagram:** what do u get when u put nine idiots in a paintball arena?? #kollektivettakespaintballing

 **@isakyaki:** i’m not doing the fucking hashtag

-

By the time they’re all piling back into the minibus, things are better. They’re not perfect by any means, but Magnus and Mutta are laughing about some meme they’ve both seen, and Mahdi and Adam are discussing technical, geeky shit that they’re both apparently interested. Jonas is even chatting with Elias about music, and from the sounds of it, they share a taste. He and Mikael aren’t quite there yet, but they exchange small nods and seem to share a mutual understanding at least.

He wants nothing more than to head back to the tour bus and relax, but the minibus stops at a gas station across the street from a shopping complex. The rest of the boys are thrilled, eagerly clambouring off of the bus and barely regarding the traffic rules as they sprint across the road. Isak follows, if only because he doesn’t want to be stuck alone with the driver. Of course, because he’s on a tour with fucking musicians, the first thing do is head for the guitar shop, which is the last one on the row.

Isak follows them there, but stops out the front, his eye being caught by something else and his brain forming a subsequent idea.

“Are you coming, man?” Jonas asks, lingering outside the guitar shop.

“I’m going to grab something to eat, actually,” Isak nods toward the building next door. The sign out front reads Panera Bread, and it looks promising enough. “I’ll meet you out here when you’re done?”

Jonas looks skeptical for a moment, but nods nonetheless. After a moment, he follows the rest of the boys inside, leaving Isak outside on his own.

Isak turns back toward the restaurant, biting the inside of his cheek. He never thought that he was this level of pathetic, but apparently he is. He’s resorting to buying soup for a boy who is, in all likelihood, uninterested in him. He’s pining after a boy who doesn’t want him like he’s in a bad romantic comedy film.

Yet he still pushes open the door, approaches the counter, and orders chicken noodle soup in his best American accent to be certain they get the order right.

Half an hour later, he slides into the minibus with the others, a container of soup held safely in his hands. He rests his head against the window and watches the blurry scenes outside, paying no mind to the conversation around him. He’s too  preoccupied with thoughts of Even, and it’s then that the realization starts to set in: this isn’t just a PR stunt anymore.

Isak may have gone into this with no feelings, but he sure as hell isn’t coming out of it that way.

 

-

“Is that soup?” Jonas is standing in front of him, stopping him before he has a chance to get off of the minibus. The pathway down the middle of the mini bus is about triple as narrow as what was on the tour bus––if that is even possible–– and Isak knows that he has no way around.

“Yeah.”

Jonas frowns. “You don’t even _like_ soup.”

Isak finds himself cursing the small confinement of the bus, both here on this tiny minibus and on the actual tour bus. He can’t do anything without someone else butting into his business, and he hates it. Privacy was something he had always taken for granted until this tour.

“Well, maybe I decided to give it another chance. Maybe I like soup more than I originally thought.” The excuse is flimsy at best, and the look he gets in response is enough for Isak to know that Jonas isn’t buying it.

“Are you okay, man?”

“I’m fine, just—I wanted soup. That’s it.”

“Okay. Sure. You wanted soup.”

Jonas lets him pass by after that, but not without shooting him another look. Isak has the faintest feeling that everyone around him knows something he’s missing, but he lets it slide in order to grip the soup a little tighter and to screw his courage to the sticking place, walking across the parking lot and onto the bus.

-

 **@lovevasquez replied to @ebnaesheim:** i love my pr otp

 **@naesheimfan99 replied to @lovevasquez’s reply:** pr in the beginning. maybe not anymore.

-

He can hear _Stranger Things_ echoing down the hallway from the back of the bus, so he knows that Even is still there. He’s gripping a tray (which holds soup, crackers, and a bottle of ginger ale) tight in his hands, but for some reason, is feet won’t cooperate.

The thought of rejection is daunting. What if Even thinks he’s ridiculous? What if he laughs in his face? Or what if he’s allergic to soup and gets personally offended? But none of that sounds like Even, and he knows that his own anxiety is getting the best of him.

Isak tightens his hold on the tray and knocks it against the slightly ajar door, pushing it open when he gets no response.

Even is lying on the couch, looking like he is drowning in a sweater that is about 16 sizes too big for him. His hair is sticking up at weird angles and his eyes are a little droopy, but Isak’s stomach is still lighting up with nervous butterflies.

“Uh… hi,” Isak says uncomfortably. “We’re back from paintballing. I brought you some soup.”

“You got me… soup?” Even asks, sitting up a little and rubbing his eyes.

“I did,” Isak clears his throat, shifting on his feet. “I thought—well. Eskild said you’re sick. Soup makes everyone feel better.”

Even laughs, but not unkindly. Isak suddenly clues onto the fact that he’s missed the joke.

“Thank you Isak,” he says smiling. “How was paintballing?”

“Well, no one killed anyone, so I think it went well,” Isak says, slowly setting the tray down onto the table and taking a seat beside Even.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, but it was painful as fuck,” Isak’s hand comes to rest near his ribs, where he’s certain a purple welt is forming. “I didn’t expect to get even more banged up than I already am.”

“At least the bruises will match your eye,” Even says, laughing again. “You’ll look like an even bigger badass.”

Isak snorts, reaching up instinctively to prod a little at the fading bruise on his eye. It’s almost completely gone now, but it still stings a little when his fingers make contact. “I guess.”

“Here,” Even reaches for one of the plastic spoons, lips quirked. He gathers some soup up onto it, carefully blowing. Then he offers it to Isak. “Do you want some?”

“I’m not sick?”

Even shrugs, lips quirked. “Neither am I. Doesn’t mean we can’t share soup.”

The spoon moves a little closer to Isak’s lips. “Here. Try it.”

Isak blinks, looking between Even and the spoon. After a brief hesitation, he leans forward, slowly taking the bite. It warms his throat pleasantly on the way down.

“It’s… it’s good,” he murmurs awkwardly, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

Even grins, dipping the spoon back into the bowl and taking a bite for himself. He hums softly, nodding his head in appreciation. “It is good. Thank you again.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Isak says, turning to face him a bit better. “Being sick sucks, so I thought this might help.”

“I’m not sick,” Even says again, “but it helps anyways.”

Isak rolls his tongue into his cheek, trying to resist asking him to elaborate. He knows that whatever is going on isn’t really his business, but there’s a nagging thought at the back of his mind that makes him wonder if Even was just trying to avoid him. Ultimately, his curiosity wins out over propriety.

“If you’re not sick, why didn’t you come today?”

Even swallows down another bite of soup, and then sets the plastic utensils down onto the tray. He looks amused, which should be a relief, but somehow only makes him feel more nervous. “You know how I’m bipolar? Well… sometimes I have rough days with that. It usually means I’m going to have an episode soon. Soup probably isn't a cure, but it does help.”

“Oh,” Isak murmurs dumbly. It makes sense, and he feels like a massive idiot.

“So I wasn’t trying to avoid you because we kissed, if that’s what you were trying to ask,” Even smirks knowingly.

“It’s not,” Isak says, too quickly for the words to actually be true. “Your friends seemed to miss you, that’s all.”

“And did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Miss me.”

Isak’s breath hitches. He shuts his eyes for a moment, willing his racing heart to calm down. When he blinks them back open, he finds that Even has leaned closer, and their faces are mere inches apart.

“I—” he starts, but his mind comes up blank.

“Did you miss me?” Even asks again, voice softer now. Isak’s eyes flick down to his lips, and he knows that speaks for itself.

“We all missed you,” Isak tries, his gaze wandering down now in a desperate attempt to avoid meeting Even’s eyes. He finds himself staring at his feet, where his pinky toe is just peeking through a hole there. His throat wobbles, and he can feel the heat of Even’s stare.

After a few moments, he dares to look up again. He was expecting Even to have given up, but instead they’re somehow even closer now.

“Did _you_ miss me?” Even repeats.

Isak swallows—hesitates. “Yes,” he whispers.

Even reaches up, his hand gently cupping Isak’s cheek. He lets it rest there briefly, and Isak finds himself leaning into the touch. Then, the hand trails up, brushing a few loose strands of hair off his face.

“Did you…” Isak trails off, cheeks warming. He wets his lips, fingers curling against the denim of his jeans. “Did you miss me?”

Even doesn’t respond. Instantly, Isak’s heart drops to his stomach. He should have known better than to ask, because _of course_ the answer was going to be no. Even is Even, for fucks sake. Everyone loves him; he has models, and actors, and other important people practically falling at his feet. And if he has the ability to choose almost anyone in the world, why would he settle for him?

“Sorry. Shit. Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked, forget I asked,” he mumbles quickly, hanging his head.

Two fingers come to rest on the underside of Isak’s chin, gently encouraging him to look up again. He does so apprehensively, eyeing Even wearily as shame washes over him.

“You’re amazing, Isak,” Even says at last. “You’re so fucking amazing, and you don’t even know it.”

“I’m no one,” Isak blurts. He hates himself for believing it, too. Most people assume he’s cocky and confident, without realizing that his sarcastic bravado is really a defense mechanism for dealing with deeply rooted insecurity.

“You’re someone to me,” Even says, voice low and serious.

He can feel hot breath teasing his lips as Even ducks his head down, slowly resting their foreheads together. Their noses brush, and the moment is so intimate that he barely lets himself breathe for fear of shattering it. They linger like that, savoring one another. They’re surrounded by the moment; caught up in one another, and the world around them nothing more than a blur.

Faintly, Isak is aware that he should be leaning back. This isn’t like the kiss at the diner, where they were surrounded by fans and obligated: this is a choice, and he is choosing Even. The reality of that should make him feel something, but all it does is fill him with raw want.

His lips part slightly on their own accord, and he tilts his head to change the angle. They’re so close now, too close, yet not close enough. So Isak does the only thing that he can think of with Even’s lips nearly pressed to his own; he leans forward.

Isak leans forward, and suddenly, he’s kissing Even again.

He swears that time stands still, and fireworks burst around them, and every other cliche comes true. There’s so much between them, and they thrive on it. Even’s hand sneaks back to cup the back of his neck, while Isak places a hand on his hip. They’re pressed together now, lips moving feverently.

When they part, Isak’s lungs burn pleasantly. His cheeks are flushed, lips puffy and reddened in the aftermath. Even uses his thumb to swipe over Isak’s glistening bottom lip, a subtle smirk on his face.

“For the record,” Even murmurs, “I did miss you.”

-

  

> **is @naesheimfan99 on twitter really isak valtersen??? an analysis by @kollektivetboys**
> 
> as most of you know, @naesheimfan99 has recently become a pretty popular fan acc on twitter. this is weird because a) their user is,,,, pretty fucking awful,,,, and b) the account itself only has 24 tweets, all of which are really generic.
> 
> plus, the account was made only a single day after the fan theory about @thekollektiv tweet went viral. if you live under a rock and you dont know what fan theory im talking about, here’s a brief summary for you. the twitter account @thekollektiv tweeted after even’s last concert basically talking about how great and talented he is and generally being enamored. a lot of people believe that isak was the one to tweet that, bc it’s public knowledge that he was/is an even fanboy.
> 
> which brings me to the point of this post: isak has created the fan acc @naesheimfan99 in order to secretly (or not secretly) post about how much he loves even, his boyfriend
> 
> below are screenshots of the account, showing the different names the owner has used. they started with “isa” and then changed it to “isabell” after receiving a joking tweet which insinuated that they were isak.
> 
> [ _screenshot1.png_ ] [ _screenshot2.png_ ] [ _screenshot3.png_ ]
> 
> next we have the reference to an album that even is currently working on, which no-one has heard anything from yet, saying it needs to be nominated for something. we the public haven’t heard anything, but maybe evens boyfriend has?? suspicious? i think yes.
> 
> then there was the sick tweets. somehow “isabell” knew that even was sick, tweeting out minutes before even himself did that even was sick. also the heart. #boyfriends
> 
> THEN THERE IS MY FINAL PIECE OF DAMNING EVIDENCE WHICH IF IT IS TRUE IM GONNA ABSOLUTELY FUCKING RIOT
> 
> _[pr_in_the_beginning.png]_
> 
> @naesheimfan99 went back and replied to one of @lovevasquez’s old tweets (@lovevasquez whom we all know and love for asking for the waffle house kiss. we all stan a queen.) anyway they fucking said that evak started off as pr and now they’re becoming real (FAKE DATING TROPE RISE) and honestly i dont even care if this is real or not i 100% subscribe to this theory
> 
> anyway @naesheimfan99 is isak valtersen bc isak totally had a major crush on even but even didn’t reciprocate till now [see: all the spotify receipts we have of isak listening to even’s music]. they were a pr relationship to cover the fallout from the screenshots (which we still don’t have an official explanation on but  see this post  for my theories) but now even reciprocates and they’re starting to date for real.
> 
> thanks for coming to my TED talk!!!
> 
>  


	8. eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii. we’re very sorry that this update took longer than usual, but our other projects and real life have been keeping us super busy. 
> 
> this chapter introduces some new drama, ties up some loose ends, and more. (fair warning that it does lack even, but is super important to the story anyways.) we hope you enjoy!!!
> 
> p.s. thanks to caroline for letting us use her name and sarah for the nooreva band name <3

 

 

 

> **IS EVEN BECH NÆSHEIM QUITTING KOLLEKTIVET’S TOUR?**
> 
> Fans have been devastated with the 24 year-olds absence from recent shows, and are starting to fear the worst. Some are speculating that he and Isak Valtersen [pictured right] are on verge of a break-up, while others believe he’s not getting along with the headlining act, Kollektivet.
> 
> “I paid $500 for my daughter to see Even, and I think his antics are unprofessional and cruel,” wrote one angry mother on Facebook.
> 
> In spite of the critics, many fans are showing their support for the singer. One fan tweeted, “i suffer from bipolar and episodes can suck. if even is going through something like that, i want him to prioritize self care over singing a few songs”
> 
> Do you think Even could be quitting the tour? Comment with your thoughts down below!

-

 **@reggismeggis:** fake news fake news fake news

 **@reggismeggis:** would i have a fan acc for even if i hated him?

 **@happymags:** HOLY SHIT ARE YOU NAESHEIMFAN99

**(@reggismeggis liked @happymags’s tweet)**

**#sorryisak is trending #1 worldwide**

**@jonas9000 replied to @happymags:** some of it was me too #creditwherecreditisdue

-

“I don’t understand why we have to get a new opening act,” Isak complains, quickening his steps to keep pace with Eskild. The older man lets out a long sigh, shaking his head out of sheer exasperation.

“We’ve been through this. Even needs to take a little break, and the fans deserve the full show that they paid for. Besides, we want to add another opener to the set for the Europe and Asia dates.”

“But Even will be back?” Isak means to remind him, but it comes out more like a question.

“Yes, Even will be back as soon as he’s ready,” Eskild rolls his eyes. “We’re not kicking your boyfriend off of the tour, Isak. We’ve all grown quite attached to him.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Isak mutters, just for him to hear.

Eskild shoots him a look over his shoulder. “You’re right, we shouldn’t say things like that. We wouldn’t want people to think you’re actually dating.”

Isak’s cheeks burn. He knows that he was probably unreasonably defensive, but he can’t help it. Part of him has become a little attached to Even—or at least, he’s able to recognize his talent. It would be fucking stupid for him to be forced off of the tour because of his mental health.

“Look,” Eskild finally halts his steps, turning to face him properly. “I’m not supposed to say anything until the contracts are officially signed, but you shouldn’t have an issue with one of the new openers.”

Isak sends him a doubtful look, folding his arms over his chest. “Who is it?”

Eskild’s face breaks out into a grin. “Let’s just say you have history with them.”

Eskild drags him outside then, the two of them watching as a small mini bus pulls up in the car park, a trailer attached to it which Isak assumes contains all the shit that comes with being a musician.

He isn’t expecting who immediately comes running off the bus in a flurry of auburn hair, but it is a very welcome surprise.

“Isak!” Eva says, flinging herself at the taller boy and crashing into his chest. Isak staggers back with a laugh, wrapping her up into a tight hug.

“Eva!” He mocks, grinning.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“Yeah, I’ve missed you too,” Isak places his hands on her shoulders then, forcing her back so that he can meet her eyes. “But that doesn’t make up for you not fucking telling me you’d be joining the tour.”

Eva and her friend Noora had formed a duo together just over a year ago. They call themselves Femme Fatales, and already have a strong fan base of their own. They’re gaining popularity and empowering women every day, and he’s immensely proud of his friend.

Eva smiles sheepishly. “I wasn’t entirely certain! I mean, our manager thought that we were competing with The Penetrators for the opening spot at first—”

“The Penetrators?”

“Yeah?” Eva’s expression falters, lips dipping into a frown. “Didn’t someone tell you?”

It feels as though someone has dumped a gallon of ice water over his head. All of the happiness and excitement he was feeling is shocked out of him, replaced by a creeping dread pooling in his stomach.

“Tell me what?” He asks slowly. Eva remains pointedly silent, which only makes him feel more alarmed. “What the fuck don’t I know, Eva?”

“They’re joining the tour too,” she blurts, averting her gaze. “Eskild and everyone want to see who the fan react to better. They want to add a second opener—Taylor Swift style—for the Europe and Asia dates.”

Isak momentarily forgets how to breathe, because _he’s going to be stuck on tour with The Penetrators._ The fucking Penetrators. The very same assholes he thought he’d left behind once he graduated from Nissen.  

They didn’t just make his life hell, they made it unbearable. And that was before Julian.

Julian, who came along with his bright blue eyes and charming smile. Who whispered sweet nothings and promises of a future together into the crook of his neck. Who made him forget about the drama with his father and mama. Who saw Isak in a vulnerable place, and convinced him to trust him with his heart. Who turned out to be a fucking _asshole_ —no. Who turned out to be _the biggest fucking asshole in the world._

After Julian unceremoniously dumped him by text in order to pursue ‘his dreams,’ dreams that he once thought included him, he only had his three best friends left, all of whom did more than their share of picking up Isak’s broken pieces.

Julian was the reason he came out to them in the first place, and there was a long period after Julian where Isak didn’t know how to define his own sexuality anymore. He had built so much of himself around a single relationship. He wasn’t _gay_ but he was dating Julian. That sort of thing. He had grown to accept himself while he was with Julian, and when he was gone, he reverted back to that dark mindset, tainted by self-loathing. It had taken him a long time to work through that issue, and he wasn’t completely done by any means, but the distance between him and Julian was definitely helping. That distance had just been removed.

Isak looks up then, feeling his stomach plummet through his body and almost getting as far as the centre of the earth, because walking off of the bus, looking back at William and saying something with a huge grin on his face, is Julian.

All of his muscles tense up, his whole body going into fight or flight mode as Julian moves ever closer. Before he knows it, Julian is standing right in front of him, gripping onto his guitar with one hand and smiling his slimy smile which Isak once thought was his best feature.

“Hey Eva. Isak.”

As always, the flight reaction wins. He doesn’t even mumble anything in response, instead turning swiftly on his heels and hightailing it out of there.

“Isak?” Eskild calls, but Isak can’t hear him through the storm of emotions which are now cascading through his veins.

He ends up on the tour bus, lying on the couch with his eyes shut. He knows that Jonas and the rest of the band are at sound check right now, so that gives him a moment to breathe and calm down by himself. He doesn’t really succeed at the second path. Instead he just gets angry.

He’s still angry when the boys come onto the tour bus, rowdy and loud as they always are after performing, even if they weren’t performing to an audience. They all stop when they see Isak, who is leaning against one of the kitchen benches, his whole body taut with energy.

“We had no idea he was coming Isak,” Jonas says first to break the silence, reaching out. Isak takes a step back, his eyes guarded.

“You had no idea? You’re the headlining act!” Isak spits. “This is a bunch of bullshit.”

“This wasn’t our decision, management handles shit like this,” Mahdi crosses his arms over his chest. “We would never fuck you over.”

Logically, Isak knows that’s true. They’ve been friends for years, stuck with each other through thick and think so there’s no reason for them to suddenly stab him in the back. But he’s mad, and they’re right in front of him.

“I didn’t want to come along in the first place!” The words feel like venom on his tongue. “This was your idea, and now it’s a fucking disaster! Everything has been a mess in my life since I joined you guys on this tour!”

“Isak, man—”

“I’m going to be stuck on tour with my ex,” Isak‘s lips tremble with an emotion he can’t quite decipher. “I _hate_ him. Them. I hate all of them, but especially him.”

“We’ll make sure he stays away from you,” Jonas says firmly. “I’ll have bodyguards surrounding you at all times if that’s what you want. Okay? We’ve got your back. We’re not the bad guys here.”

Isak swallows down the lump in his throat, blinking away the tears stinging the backs of his eyes. He doesn’t miss being with Julian, but the hurt from being tossed away like nothing for the umpteenth time in his life remains.

“Group hug!” Magnus suddenly declares. Isak doesn’t have time to react before the blonde is flinging himself at him, lanky arms slinking around his torso. Jonas and Mahdi follow suit, and soon he’s surrounded by the warm embrace of his friends.

“I’m sorry for being an ass,” he murmurs into what he thinks is Magnus’ shoulder. “I know you wouldn’t pull that sort of shit, I’m just…”

“We know,” Jonas says softly. “It’s alright. You’ve just got to remember that you’re not alone. You’ve got us.”

-

 **@isakyaki:** du er ikke alene

-

There are only so many Happy Meals a person can eat in the span of a week. Isak’s limit is four. His friends seem content to eat their weight in greasy fries from McDonalds, but his stomach is starting to churn from just the smell.

Which is why, come lunch time, he’s beelining it backstage for catering. He’ll never understand why his friends continue to choose fast food over the closest thing to a home cooked meal they’ve got.

He’s trying to follow the paper signs hanging around the corridors, but they’re in English and his brain is tired enough that he has no idea what any of the English words mean. Where he ends up is definitely not catering, but there are voices coming from a door which is slightly ajar.

Further inspection reveals it to be Mikael and Eskild, and for the first time in the time that Isak has known Mikael, he looks… nervous?

“I want you to fire the Penetrators,” Mikael says, fiddling with his hands a little. Isak can’t see Eskild’s face from where he’s standing, but he can hear the sharp intake of breath.

“What?”

“I want you to fire the Penetrators.”

Eskild shakes his head. “I heard you. But why?”

Mikael somehow gets more awkward after that, his head dropping down so he’s looking at the floor. He mumbles something, but Isak can’t hear it. Apparently Eskild can’t either because he asks Mikael to repeat it.

“Isak’s not comfortable,” he rushes out. “He should—he has the right to feel comfortable. We all do. And it’s bullshit that… why should they get to come along and disrupt everything?”

Eskild doesn’t say anything for a long time, and Isak can only imagine the dubious expression on his face. “This is about defending Isak?”

“No,” Mikael says immediately, but falters only a moment later. “Well, yeah. I mean, I guess. It’s just that those guys seem like complete douchebags.”

“They do,” Eskild says slowly, not bothering to disagree. “But they also have an overlapping fan base with Kollektivet. It would be marketing genius to bring them along.”

“So that’s it then?” Mikael’s shoulders slump. “They’re going to come along anyways?”

Eskild sighs heavily. “This is out of my hands. I don’t get the final say of who joins us, that’s up to people far more important than me. I understand what you’re saying, and I hate that Baby Gay is unhappy with the arrangement, but there’s nothing that I can do.”

“But—”

“I like having a job, Mikael,” Eskild says, an edge of something to his voice now. “I know that this is going to be a disaster. I’ve heard horror stories about the three boneheads joining us on tour. But it’s a miracle I could convince them to give the girls a shot at the opening slot too.”

“It’s bullshit,” Mikael repeats gruffly, but his anger is no longer directed at Eskild.

“Welcome to the music industry,” Eskild says dryly.

Isak knows that that is the end of the conversation, and he tries to move as quickly as he can away from the doorway, but he’s not nearly quick enough. His back is turned, he’s walking down the corridor at a fast pace, but Mikael’s voice stops him in his tracks.

“Isak?”

He freezes, because Isak has always been a freezer when confronted with situations like this. “Yeah?” he says, spinning around to face him.

Mikael looks down at the floor, his whole demeanour uncharacteristic of the Mikael that Isak has come to know. “Did you– did you hear that?”

Isak is half a second too slow in reacting, and even though he knows that Mikael won’t believe him he shakes his head anyway. Mikael shut his eyes and takes a deep breath. Isak watches his shoulders rise and then fall.

“Even really likes you,” Mikael says, cracking one eye open at last. “He’s my best friend, you know?”

“I know,” Isak nods. He’s seen Even and Mikael together, and he knows that they have the same sort of relationship that he and Jonas do. “I never wanted… I’m not trying to get revenge like some evil villain. I really just wanted to help him out.”

“I think I get that now,” Mikael brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “I don’t want to keep fighting with you, man. Everyone else is chill now.”

“Thank fuck,” Isak sighs in relief. “I can’t deal with anymore drama right now.”

Mikael cracks a small grin. “I’m not saying we’ll be best buds or anything like that, but maybe we can try being acquaintances for now?”

“That’s chill,” Isak agrees. Mikael offers his hand out, and Isak takes it, letting himself be pulled in for a bro hug.

-

 **@naesheimfan99:** hypothetically……… if even was sick……… who would you all like to have replace him at m&gs:

Isak: 72%

The Penetrators: 16%

Femme Fatales: 12%

-

 **Official Kollektivet Statement:** If you have booked meet and greets for Raleigh, NC, please be aware that there have been some changes.

Even Bech Næsheim will be unable to attend the meet and greet sessions for personal reasons. He hopes that fans will understand and respect his privacy during this time.

In his place, Isak Valtersen (influencer) will be meeting fans along with Kollektivet. Fans will also be given complimentary Even merchandise.

Please check your email for further details.

**-**

Isak is going to pass out. He’s standing in front of the backdrop set up for meet and greets, with the tour sponsors logos plastered all over it. He’s certain that if his fists were clenched by his sides, he’d be shaking.

And it’s all Magnus’ fucking fault for posting that stupid twitter poll.

Now he’s spending his afternoon meeting fans—fans! Fans that he shouldn’t have in the first place. His anxiety right now is skyrocketing, because what the fuck is he doing at a meet and greet? He’s not great with people in general, and he’s only ever had a few experiences dealing with his friends intense fans.

“Bro, you’re going to be fine,” Jonas says, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “We’ll be right here the entire time, and you’ve got a whole security team five feet away.”

“What if they cry?” Isak blurts. “Do I have to lie and tell them their makeup isn’t running? Or what if they’re annoyed that I’m here and Even’s not? You should have gotten Noora and Eva to replace him, I’m the least qualified person, to be doing this.”

“If they cry, just hug them,” Mahdi says.

“And the fans fucking love you,” Magnus adds. “They wanted you to take Even’s place, they wouldn’t have been happy with anyone else.”

“It’s time to wake up and smell the roses, man. You’re famous now,” Jonas lets him go at last. “You’re friends with us, and you’re dating Even.”

“But—” Isak starts. He’s ready to tell all of them (once again) how ridiculous that is, but one of the security men come over before he can.

“The fans are being brought in right now. We’re giving them a bit more time with you guys today to make up for any potential backlash about the changes,” the man warns, “so keep that in mind.”

“Sweet!” Magnus beams. He’s always trying to convince their management to let them spend more time with fans instead of rushing them through the entire thing. He’s also always the one to be an hour late to rehearsal because he ‘ran into’ a group of fans and ‘had’ to take a picture with them.

“I really don’t think I should be doing this,” Isak says quickly, shooting a frantic, desperate look back at his friends.

“Isak,” Jonas raises his brows. “Chill.”

Isak really doesn’t know the meaning of the word. One of the security guards is behind him now, ushering him forward to a table which is on the other side of a curtain. He sits down at one of the seats, Jonas on his other side.

Jonas shoots him another look. “Chill bro. Everything is going to be fine.”

-

Everything is not fine. Isak is almost certain that the first girl approaches him is going to have an asthma attack or go into cardiac arrest.

“Oh. My. God,” the girls wheezes. “You’re actually Isak!”

“I am,” Isak agrees, laughing awkwardly. He hopes that she can’t sense how uncomfortable he actually is right now. “Uh—what’s your name?”

“Jenna,” the girls responds, and her eyes widen almost immediately. “You know my name now! You actually know my name!”

“I do,” Isak’s already false smile falters. “Do you want a picture, Jenna?”

It’s a stupid question to ask, really. She wouldn’t have begged her parents to pay the overpriced cost for meet and greet tickets if she didn’t want a picture. Still, Jenna eagerly nods her head, cozying up to her side like they’re old friends and not strangers. He gives his best smile to the camera, and then lets the security guard escort the girl out into the hallways.

After that initial awkward interaction, things seem to go a lot smoother. Most of the fans seem to understand that he’s new to this, and are actually quite sweet. As he takes photo after photo, the ball of tightness in his chest loosens, and he gets more comfortable having fun with the fans too.

He’s grinning, genuinely grinning, when a girl in a floral dress approaches him. She can’t be older than seventeen, with a tentative smile on her lip and hands clasped timidly in front of her.

“Hi Isak,” she whispers, cheeks flushed.

“Halla,” Isak responds brightly. He offers his arms out to her for a hug, something he learned after he caught a glimpse of Magnus doing so. It seems to make things less awkward. “What’s your name?”

“Caroline,” she bites her lip, stepping closer to wrap her arms around his torso. “I’m really glad you’re filling in for Even. I didn’t think that I would ever get to meet you.”

Isak is surprised to find that the comment sends a fuzzy sort of feeling spreading through him. “Yeah? That’s sweet.”

“I—” she starts, and then cuts herself off with a sharp breath. “I know you’ve probably heard people say it countless times already today, but you’ve helped me through a lot.”

And, no. Isak can safely say no one has told him anything close to that yet. He’s been met with giddy laughter and hysteric tears, but nothing of such weight.

“You’re the first person to tell me that,” he assures. “I’m not quite sure how I did that for you, but I’m glad I did.”

Caroline steps back at last, wringing her hands together again. “I was having a really hard time last year with everything. My friends… we had kind of had a falling out, I guess? Or maybe it wasn’t even that, so much as I started to pull away from them. I was going through a lot with my mom leaving us, and I kind of took that out on them.”

Her words feel like a punch to the gut. The story is so familiar, and he’s instantly brought back to his second year at Nissen when he had done the same thing. His father walked out on them, and while he let Jonas in at first, he soon started to push him and the other boys away. He thought that he was protecting them or something, saving them from himself, and it had taken a few months before they convinced him that wasn’t true.

“I don’t mean to sound creepy,” she adds quickly. “I’ve read a bunch of interviews, though, and the boys have kind of vaguely mentioned something similar? Or maybe it was you in one of Mahdi’s vlogs? But it just hit home with me, and it made me want to open up to my best friend. So I guess I want to say thank you for that, and for everything you’ve done for everyone since.”

Isak doesn’t expect the tears that well up in his eyes, but suddenly he’s pressing his tongue hard against the roof of his mouth in an attempt not to break down crying. He steps forward once again, pulling her back into another long hug.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he murmurs quietly. “When I went through that with my dad, it sucked. But I’m glad that you let your friends back in, and that I somehow helped with that.”

Him and Caroline don’t get much more time before a security guard pushes her away and the next girl approaches, but all throughout the rest of the meet and greet he can’t forget her, that _he_ helped someone.

“Hi, what’s your name?”

-

“Was it as bad as you thought it was going to be?” Jonas asks, passing him a bottle of water. Isak shakes his head.

“It was actually pretty cool to meet them. They were great people, especially that girl Caroline.”

Jonas thinks for a moment, before his eyes light up with realization. “Oh, her! Yeah, I saw you hugging her. You looked ready to cry. What was that all about?”

“She said I helped her through some shit,” Isak admits. He’s not sure why he doesn’t divulge the details Jonas, but it just feels like an invasion of privacy or something, even though he’ll likely never see her again. “That’s crazy to me.”

“It’s nice though, isn’t it? I mean, here we are,” Jonas gestures around them, “living out our dreams and helping people along the way.”

This was never Isak’s dream. In high school he always thought he’d end up a scientist working out his days in some lab in Oslo. And as much as he griped about and protested tagging along with the boys the way he is now, he doesn’t mind it so much anymore. He may be stuck dealing with Julian now, but he changed someone’s life. Him. The same guy who never had any aspirations of being famous.

He doesn’t say any of this to Jonas. He just elbows him in the side, rolls his eyes and says, “Fuck off.”


	9. nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello and welcome to chapter nine!! aka the one with cuddles, realizations, and the appearance of a certain someone. we hope you enjoy!!

**@thekollektiv:** first concert with both opening acts tonight!! hope all you out there in Philly are as keen as we are!

-

There’s a magazine on his bed. It’s an issue of _Teen Vogue_ with some up-and-coming model on the cover, posing on a pool float, which reminds him of the Kate Upton poster he used to have hanging on the back of his bedroom door—a gift from Jonas when he was still very deep in the closet. It makes him feel a little ill, frankly; which is one of many reasons he would never purchase it for himself.

So someone has left a magazine on his bed. Isak thinks that it has to be a prank at first, but he doesn’t understand what the joke would be.

When he starts to flip through the pages, he discovers that one of them is dogeared at the corner. It could easily be an accident, but based on the entire set-up he has a sneaking suspicion that it’s not. He’s ready to toss the magazine into the garbage and ignore the weird situation altogether, but then he catches a glimpse of the bold lettering near the top of the page.

**Discover Your Stage of Love**

**_Dating can be difficult, especially when you’re not sure where you stand. If you’re questioning your relationship status, take the quiz below!_ **

Isak pauses.

He’s definitely not the target audience for this magazine. In fact, he’s pretty sure that the intended readers are the same people currently camped outside the venue, waiting to see Kollektivet in concert. So this silly quiz shouldn’t interest him at all, except—

Except he’s been thinking about the Even Situation, probably more than he should. He knows that his own feelings have developed into something more, but that doesn’t mean that Even reciprocates any of them. Everything between them has been so unclear lately, and it’s slowly driving him crazy.

“Fuck it,” he mutters to the empty bus. He grabs a pen out of his bag, and circles his first answer.

-

Twenty minutes later, _Teen Vogue_ insists that he is in an established, exclusive relationship. Isak rips the page out, crumbles it into a ball, and tosses it at the wall.

-

 **@isakyaki:** fucking magazines

**(@thekollektiv liked @isakyaki’s tweet)**

-

The only reason Even has a hotel room is because he’s feeling down and he doesn’t need any real disturbances, but when the rest of them are at a venue they still sleep in the tour bus. Which means Isak can hear everyone else rattling around the tiny thing while he’s lying on his bunk trying to concentrate scrolling down his twitter feed.

And he has to concentrate, because some of the analysis of #evakmoments are fucking complicated. Isak has no idea how fans come up with some of this stuff, because how the fuck can they get _quick backstage fuck_ from a necklace, a half finished beer and a stapler.

The theories are interesting too, more interesting than he was expecting. People have clearly put effort into these things. He wonders halfheartedly if it would be creepy to like some of these threads.

He shuts his phone and slams it face down onto his chest, trying to calm his breathing and organise his thoughts. He achieves neither.

But there is always Jonas, and that’s looking to be a really desirable option right now. Jonas is the one person who knows him better than he knows himself, and if he went out there right now and told Jonas everything that was going on in his head, Isak knows he would listen. And he is out there in the kitchen right now, banging pots and pans around in what might be an attempt to make homemade crystal meth. Or eggs. One of the two.

Isak bundles up the last of his courage and pushes himself out of his bunk, moving into the kitchen. The courage fades away when he sees Jonas, who is humming to himself one of Kollektivet’s new songs and stacking some of their dishes away in the cupboards. When he turns around, he notices Isak, smiling a little.

“Hey Isak.” When he doesn’t reply, Jonas looks up at him, head quirked. “Is everything okay?”

Isak doesn’t reply to that either, instead flopping onto the couch and running his hands over his face. Jonas, to his credit, just continues what he is doing, waiting for Isak to come to him.

“Even and I–” he starts, rubbing a hand through his hair. His thoughts are racing a little, and he’s struggling to put them into words. Eventually he just quirks his head to the side a little, a confused look on his face, and asks, “Are we dating?”

Jonas turns around to face him, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Are you _really_ asking me?”

Isak’s confused expression doesn’t move. “Yes?”

“I think you’ve been dating for a while Isak.”

“No fucking way,” Isak says immediately, shaking his head quickly. “We hated each other!”

“For like, a week?” Jonas raises a brow.

“It was longer than that.”

“Okay, two weeks,” Jonas shrugs. “But before that, you used to listen to his music all the time. You already had a crush on him.”

Isak can feel the blood drain from his face. He always thought that he had kept his fanboy tendencies under wraps. “How do you know about that?”

“Isak,” Jonas sighs in exasperation. “You’re not subtle. At all.”

“I’m the master of being subtle, asshole,” Isak mutters back weakly. He feels deflated all of a sudden, and can’t muster up the energy to put bite behind the words.

“Stop making that face,” Jonas says, gesturing up at him. “You’re dating someone. So what? You’ve dated before.”

“Yeah, and look how well that turned out for me,” Isak presses his tongue against the back of his teeth as he exhales. “Now I have an asshole ex willing to remind me of how out of my league he is anytime he gets the chance.”

Jonas’ features harden, his eyes narrowing. “Did he say something to you?”

“Recently? Nei,” Isak says. “I haven’t even seen him.”

“Good,” Jonas nods. He seems to relax some, but the defensive edge to his posture lingers. “They’re all assholes. You don’t need that shit.” Isak makes a soft noise of agreement.

“But,” Jonas adds, “that doesn’t mean everyone you date is going to be an asshole. Even’s chill.”

Isak groans, rubbing a hand tiredly over his face. “I’m dating Even.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m fucked,” Isak decides, flopping back against the seat.

“How are you fucked?”

“Because I’m dating Even!” Isak snaps. He knows he probably shouldn’t take his emotional turmoil out on Jonas, but he can’t hold it back.

“So you’ve finally accepted it?”

Isak snaps his head toward the source of the new voice, and finds Magnus standing in the doorway with a package of potato chips in hand. Mahdi is right beside him, an infuriating smirk on his face.

“He’s working on it,” Jonas says.

Magnus makes his way over to the couch, sitting down beside Isak. “Thank fuck. All of the sexual tension has been killing us, man.”

“I don’t have sexual tension with Even,” Isak says, but he knows that’s a blatant lie. “It just… feels right with him, I guess.”

“You guess,” Magnus mocks. Isak flips him off.

Mahdi—who had opted to sit beside Jonas instead—gives him a knowing look. “Does Even know about these feelings you’re having?”

Isak opens his mouth, and the promptly closes it, his face turning red.

“I guess that’s a no,” Mahdi says, disapproval obvious in his tone.

“He’s going through some shit right now,” Isak defends. “I don’t want to bother him.”

“You mean you haven’t spoken to him?” Magnus asks incredulously, throwing his hands up in the air. “Because he’s having a depressive episode?”

“Well, when you put it that way, I sound like an asshole,” Isak mumbles, shoulders slumping. “I just figured that he would want to be alone.”

“He might _want_ to be alone right now, but the best thing for him is to be with someone. When I was little,” Magnus says through a mouthful of chips, “I used to cuddle up in bed with my mom when she had episodes. I would put on a film, or tell her about my day, and she said it helped her.”

Isak bites the inside of his cheek. “It won’t stress him out more?”

“He’s bipolar, not brain dead,” Magnus rolls his eyes. “If he really doesn’t want you to be there, he’ll tell you to fuck off.”

“Okay,” Isak exhales. “Yeah. I guess I should go see him.”

“He’s still Even,” Magnus assures. “He’s just Even who is a little more sad and needs a lot of cuddles.”

Isak knows that, of course; but it’s entirely different to hear someone reaffirm it. Those words, obvious as they are, strip away any lingering doubt he might have had about going to see Even.

“Boys,” Isak says, “I won’t be at the show tonight.”

His friends breakout into simultaneous grins.

-

Isak hasn’t missed a single Kollektivet performance this tour, but he knows tonight’s is going to be the first. He’s clutching Even’s hotel room key tight enough that his knuckles are about to burst out of his skin, a duplicate key which had been pressed into his hand by Eskild with a whisper of _stop pouting and go see your lover boy._

There’s a little part of him that feels bad about missing out on supporting his best friends, but all of the boys had been clear in letting him know that it was okay. Though unspoken, they understood that Even needed his support more right now.

He has enough confidence to open the door, to push the door slightly open and sneak in as quietly as he can. The moment he spots Even, however, that confidence fades, leaving him hovering at the door, unsure about whether he’s allowed to go in or not. Isak theoretically knows that the lump of blankets and pillows on the bed is Even, but he can’t tell where he starts and the blankets end. The only sign that there is life is the little tuft of hair thats peeking out and resting gently on the pillow. Isak has the sudden urge to run his hand through it.

Isak feels a little uncomfortable standing at the door just staring at Even, so he takes a first hesitant step into Even’s hotel room, then again when he discovers the carpet isn’t going to make any noise underneath him.

As much as he tries though, he can’t disguise the way the bed dips underneath him when he clambours on top of it, lying close enough to Even that he can feel his body heat radiating off of him. It makes Even stir, groaning a little as he uses up what little energy he has to turn around and face Isak, who is now just lying on the bed and staring at him, wondering if he’s allowed to touch.

“What are you doing here?” Even croaks, blinking rapidly a few times to try and rid the sleep from his eyes.

Isak shrugs as best he can. “Coming to see you, I guess.”

It should probably be weird, him showing up like this. They’ve shared a few kisses (and maybe they’ve both caught some feelings along the way), but this is different. This involves both of them being vulnerable, offering up small pieces of themselves. It’s the type of moment that solidifies relationships; simultaneously intimate and terrifying?

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Even mumbles, turning his head so that he’s staring at the ceiling and not at Isak.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I’m just lying here and being a burden to you.” Even’s voice is devoid of any emotion. Isak halfheartedly wonders how deeply this feeling is internalised, and how much Even believes that no one cares about him.

“You’re not,” Isak insists calmly. “This—being here with you—is chill.”

It’s clear that Even doesn’t believe him, but he also doesn’t have the energy to protest it. “Okay.”

Isak lifts his hand up and runs it tenderly through Even’s hair, coaxing the knots out gently. “Okay.”

Now isn’t the time to talk about Isak’s newfound revelation about his relationship status, but there’s still the urge in his stomach to just ask, so he can know. He’s been sitting in this state of unknown for like four hours now, and it’s four hours way too long

But when Even curls his head so that it’s resting against Isak’s chest, snuffling softly because _of course he’s one of those people who just falls asleep that fast_ , Isak can’t bring himself to do anything except shut his eyes too and lie down next to him.

-

 **@mahdigal:** isak was missing from the concert tonight. hope he’s giving his boyfriend all the love he deserves

**(@mahdigal’s tweet was favorited by @jonas9000 and @mahahahdi)**

-

They forgot to shut the curtains. The room they’re in is east facing, so the early morning sunlight is streaming in, saturating the room in orangey-yellow light. Isak, in his half asleep and delirious state, suddenly has a vision of them twenty years down the track, with Even half heartedly and lovingly scolding Isak for not shutting the curtains. It feels like it will be a regular occurence.

He quickly shakes those thoughts away. They’re not even officially together; it’s ridiculous to be thinking about the future. Before he can get further lost in his head, his attention is drawn to the rustling of sheets beside him. Even stares at him with a slightly surprised yet content expression, before rolling over onto his back.

“Hey,” Isak whispers, just to break the ice.

“Hey.”

“Are you feeling better?”

“A little.”

“That’s good.”

Isak has no tact. He’s never had any tact, he’s just shut his mouth long enough to make people think he does. It’s this lack of tact that makes him blurt it out, feeling his face go bright red as he does so. “Are we dating?

Even finally smiles, which makes his stomach swoop wildly. “One day without me, and you’ve already forgotten about our relationship?”

“I’m not talking about the PR thing,” Isak says, but something about the glint in Even’s eyes tells him that he already knew that. “I mean… are we _really_ dating?”

“Why?” Even asks. His fingers brush over Isak’s from where they’re resting atop the sheets. “Do you want to be?”

This time, it’s Isak’s turn to flip onto his back and stare up at the ceiling. He knows that his whole body is bright red, but Even doesn’t seem to mind. He just scoots a little closer to him, props himself up with an elbow, and places his hand on Isak’s cheek. He waits patiently until Isak meets his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers, brushing hair out of Isak’s face. “It’s okay.”

Isak isn’t expecting Even to lean in even closer and kiss him, but he isn’t gonna say no to it either, because Even’s lips are soft and they make his heart pound wildly in his chest and if he’s really really honest with himself he’s kind of addicted to feeling that feeling.

When Even pulls apart, Isak chases his lips half-heartedly, but Even just swats him off, laughing. “You’re needy.”

Isak blushes, moving closer so he can bury his face in Even’s neck. “Shut the fuck up.”

Even wraps his arm around Isak’s back and brings him in closer so that they’re cuddling now. Isak is surprised at how natural it all feels. “Do you really want to date me,” Even whispers after a while, the mood changing. “I can be—a lot.”

Isak props himself up on his elbows, staring Even directly in the eyes. He kisses him first, just because he can, and to remind Even that he’s right here, nowhere else. “I want to.”

“Okay.”

Isak halfheartedly wonders whether he’ll ever get used to the feeling of Even’s lips on his, and then prays to whatever exists that he never does, because he never wants to lose this feeling.

-

 **@isakyaki:** god pride mnd peeps [][][][]

**(@reggismeggis retweeted @isakyaki’s tweet)**

**@reggismeggis:** MY BEST FRIENDS ARE CUTER THAN YOUR BEST FRIENDS

 **@lovevasquez:** [ https://archiveofourown.org/works/13836411 ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13836411) i caved im fuckin writing fic

**(@naesheimfan99 liked @lovevasquez’s tweet)**

-

He has to leave Even’s hotel room eventually, though he wishes he could stay bundled up with Even in bed forever. But life goes on, and Isak promised Eskild that he would contribute his unbiased opinion on some new merchandise.

Even kisses him goodbye with a sweet peck, and it makes leaving just a little bit easier. He thinks it should be weird, how they’ve shifted so easily from hating one another to _this,_ but it feels right. Isak has never felt so strongly so soon for someone, and he’s putting his heart on the line in hopes that it’ll work out.

He makes his way out of the room as Even is getting into the shower, with a pep in his step prompted by sheer happiness. He’s certain that nothing could ruin this morning for him; which is of course why sees him in the hotel lobby.

Julian Dahl is standing about fifteen feet away, in all his blonde-haired green-eyed glory. His attention is focused on his phone, and he’s undoubtedly trying to hit up some phony Instagram model. He’s still handsome, with a sharp jawline and muscular build, but Isak knows his pretty face compensates for what he lacks in personality.

Isak halts his steps immediately, and nearly gets run over by the bellhop. He shoots the man what he hopes is an apologetic look, but is probably just pure panic.

He takes a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm. Julian isn’t even paying attention to his surroundings, instead staring down and typing furiously into his phone, which means that he probably hasn’t noticed Isak, who at this point is just standing there, frozen to the spot with badly concealed panic.

He’s tempted to turn around and rush back to Even’s hotel room, but that would involve explaining the situation to Even, and that means digging up all the old feelings he has for Julian. He’s only recounted the Julian story once in full, and that was to Jonas, the day after it happened. Mahdi and Magnus know the gist of it, but not everything.

When he looks up again however, Julian is staring right at him, not even bothering to hide it. Isak feels a whole range of emotions bubble up inside him, and he doesn’t even get a moment to decode what he’s feeling, because Julian is walking right over to him, his stoic demeanour making Isak’s stomach sink through the floor.

“Hi Julian,”

“Hi Isak.”

The conversation lags immediately after that, because Isak doesn’t know how to keep it going.

“I saw you bagged yourself a new boyfriend,” Julian says, his voice clipped and short.

Isak swallows through the sudden dryness of his mouth. “Yeah. Even.”

“Even,” Julian repeats, and then shrugs, like he can’t be bothered. “You two are all over the tabloids.”

“I guess,” Isak says. He’s trying to sound casual, but his voice sounds too tight. “I don’t really pay attention to that shit.”

“No?” Julian quirks one perfectly manicured brow.

Isak shifts on his feet, pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth. He should spare himself and end the conversation now, but the subtle smirk on Julian’s face sends a spark of anger through him. He feels the irrational need to defend Even, though he hasn’t really been threatened at all.

“We’re happy,” he says.

Julian surveys him for a long moment, and then lets out a noise akin to a snort. “This Even guy, he’s on the tour too?”

“Yes,” Isak’s jaw tightens slightly. “He’s the real opening act, and he’s very talented. The fans love him.”

Julian waves a hand through the air. “You know I don’t listen to bubblegum pop shit, babe.”

“Don’t call me that,” Isak says. He means for the words to be stern, but they come out sounding more deflated than anything.

“Did you see me perform?” Julian asks, ignoring his words entirely.

“Uh––no?”

“Right,” Julian slings his backpack over his shoulder. “I would suggest you take a listen when you have the chance. There’s a song or two in our set about you.”

“Fuck off,” Isak mumbles.

Julian winks. “It was nice catching up, babe. I think the next few weeks are going to be a lot of fun.” He turns around and swiftly walks away, leaving Isak with an awful sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

Isak can only hope the fans will hate The Penetrators as much as he does.

-

 **@thekollektiv:** Click this link if you attended the first Philly show and vote for which opening act you want to keep!

_Poll Results:_

_The Penetrators: 50%_

_Femme Fatales: 50%_

 


	10. ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... guess who’s back? 
> 
> thank you all for your patience while we were on our break. we both had a lot of stuff going on in our lives that we needed time to work through, but now we’re back and (in our opinions) better than ever!!! we’re very excited to be back and updating regularly again.
> 
> we hope you all enjoy, and again, thank you <3

Magnus is the most unsubtle person Isak has ever met. He has no idea how loud he is talking, ever, or how loud his footsteps can be. He’s clumsy, and is lacking a brain to mouth filter big time. For Isak, this means that whenever he’s in a bit of a mood, he actually can’t be around Magnus. Another really annoying thing about Magnus; he doesn’t have any sort of value for his life.

He knows that it’s Magnus traipsing through the bus a good three minutes before he sees him, because he hears him bang into four separate objects as he comes through, and one of them at least twice. Isak doesn’t even flinch as he comes in and basically throws himself into the vacant space on the couch, sighing dramatically and throwing his hands up in the air.

“Bro, did you know that we’re in Philadelphia? I had no idea!”

Isak sighs heavily, barely sparing Magnus a glance up from his phone. “You did a show here last night, and you’re just now realizing that?”

“Everyone was calling it Philly!” Magnus does some sort of gesture through the air. “How was I supposed to know that they’re the same place?”

“Why does it matter so much?” Isak asks, inwardly facepalming at Magnus’ idiocracy. He doesn’t have time for this—he’s currently 77 weeks deep into Even’s Instagram. 

“Because we have to go run up the steps!” Magnus says, with much more enthusiasm than Isak thinks is necessary. 

“Are you on something right now?” Isak reluctantly sets his phone face down on the table, giving his friend an exasperated look. 

“No! We have to go the art museum and run up the steps,” Magnus insists. Isak stares at him blankly. “You know, like from  _ Rocky? _ ” he adds when the silence dragged on for a little too long.

Isak’s eyes narrow. “Since when are you a fan of  _ Rocky? _ ” 

“Who isn’t a fan of  _ Rocky,  _ man?”

Isak shoots him a look, which Magnus immediately crumbles under. “Okay, so maybe I’ve never seen  _ Rocky _ , but I know the scene! It’s famous!” he protests. 

Isak just shakes his head, picking his phone back up and cursing under his breath when he realises all of his Instagram stalking progress has been ruined. Then he decides to move onto stalking all of Even’s photos on Mikael’s Instagram. “I’m not going to go run up some fucking steps.”

Magnus juts his lip out into a pout, scanning through the group chat messages that are pinging in every three seconds. “Come on, everyone’s doing it!”

“Fuck off,” Isak says simply.

“Even’s coming.”

Isak’s gaze snaps up. “What?”

“Your boyfriend is a movie geek,” Magnus says. “It was his idea.”

“We’re not attached at the hip,” Isak says, not denying the boyfriend comment, which he assumes was what Magnus was looking for. “I don’t have to do everything that he does.”

“Okay,” Magnus says with a smirk.

“Serr,” Isak insists. “I’m not going to go and boil outside running up some steps when I could be chilling with the AC in here.”

“Sure you are,” Magnus says, rolling his eyes and pushing himself up from the couch. “If you magically change your mind and decide to come, however, we’ll be leaving in about half an hour.”

Isak doesn’t even realise that Magnus has left the room after that, because he’s too far down in his thoughts rabbit hole to realise. On one hand –– physical exercise, and Isak has no desire to voluntarily do that.

And on the other hand, spending time with Even  _ and _ his friends? 

-

**@isakyaki:** “philadelphia and philly are the same place??” -magnus, two seconds ago

**@shotgunjonas:** i stan a king who only tweets to roast

**@jonas9000 replied to @shotgunjonas:** isak has never missed an opportunity to roast magnus

**@isakyaki replied to @jonas9000:** he just makes it so easy

-

As the Uber pulls up to the front of the apparently famous stairs, Isak suddenly becomes aware of the sheer amount of people that were there. He watched Rocky a long time ago, when Jonas was still in his film buff stage and before he moved onto  _ rock god I only listen to ACDC and Led Zeppelin Isak I totally hate mainstream stuff.  _ That second one was a tough phase for Isak to get through.

He’s never done well in large crowds either, his anxiety rising up in him almost the moment that he steps out of the car. He notices all of his friends instantly, even though they were obviously making their best attempts to blend in with their hoodies and their caps pulled low over their faces. For as

“I didn’t think you’d want to come,” Even says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “All we’re doing is climbing stairs for fun.”

Isak smiles. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have invited me either.”

This reaction obviously wasn’t what Even was expecting, because his face contorts into confusion as he shoots Isak a quizzical look. “You’re not mad I didn’t invite you?”

“No? Should I be?”

“Maybe? I don’t know,” Even shrugs awkwardly, looking back down at the ground. 

“I’m not mad, okay? You don’t have to invite me to everything. We can be independent people and all that jazz,” Isak says, shrugging offhandedly.

That makes Even smile, small at first but eventually growing to cover his whole face. “That’s really mature of you,” he says, his tone impressed.

“Well would you like me to be mad? I can do mad if you want?”

Even grins at him. “I mean, we probably should have our first fight. You know, so we can get it out of the way.”

Before Isak can reply however, Mikael calls out from where he is standing at the bottom of the steps. “Can you two stop flirting and come over so we can climb the steps!”

“Be an independent person Mikael!” Even calls back, echoing Isak’s words from before. “Climb the steps yourself!”

As Even and him move back closer to the group, Isak wonders halfheartedly how these boys continually manage to stay under the radar in large groups when they are so obnoxious about their presence all of the time. Before they can get too close to Mikael though, Even stops Isak, placing an arm out in front of him.

“What?”

Even is grinning widely now. “Karma’s a bitch. Look.”

Sure enough, three teenage girls were now surrounding Jonas and Mikael, phones outstretched in a typical selfie position. Perhaps Isak’s thoughts were wrong. He glances up to see Magnus and the rest of his friends about halfway up the stairs, also staring down at Jonas and Mikael and laughing. 

He turns around to face Even, effectively blocking him from being seen by the now ten fans who were standing huddled in a group around Jonas and Mikael. “Wanna climb the stairs here and avoid those fans?” Even asks.

“And deprive your fans of photos with your beautiful face?” Isak replies, a laugh in his voice. 

Even shrugs a little dejectedly, and Isak’s laughing mood immediately disappears. “I love my fans, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I just want to enjoy being a tourist without them coming up and asking for photos. I’m big into films, so like I just want to pretend to be a boxer for five minutes.”

“Okay then,” Isak smiles softly back, offering him a hand. Even doesn’t hesitate to entangle their fingers together. “Lets make these steps our bitch.”

Mikael shoots them a glare when they are halfway up the steps. Isak just flips him off back with a wink.

-

**@jonasvasquezupdates:** a fan encounter at the rocky steps!!! 

**@isakyaki replied to @jonasvasquezupdates:** @jonas9000 did you have fun today!

**@jonas9000 replied to @isakyaki:** you know i did!!

**@jonas9000 replied to @isakyaki:** p.s. @mikaelobass you are so dead

**@mikaelobass replied to @jonas9000:** <3 

-

The Penetrators are on tonight as the opening act, for their second night out of the three they’re spending in Philadelphia, and Julian’s words are still in his head. He hasn’t listened to any of the Penetrators’ music, because when Julian and him broke up they had only released about three songs. If he’s honest as well, those three songs were shit; something Isak would expect on the top 40 but nothing that makes him think or feel anything. 

But Julian wrote songs about him, and although he hates Julian he has to know what he still thinks about him, because that’s just the sort of person that Isak is. He’s been working on reducing his paranoia, but right now he’s just feeding into it, standing backstage at the Wells Fargo Center and waiting for a sign that the song Julian is standing out there singing is about him.

“Why are you listening?” Internally Isak jumps at Even’s voice, but he’s had a lot of practise at staying still from Jonas and Magnus, so he turns around to look at him calmly. He’s still in his pa

“Julian said––” Even rolls his eyes at that, effectively cutting him off. 

“Do you care?” 

“A little.” 

“Why?”

“Because Julian is out there singing potentially about me to twenty thousand people and I want to know whether he’s dragging me through the mud or not.”

“They don’t know it’s you.”

“Don’t they?”

“No. Your relationship with Julian was pre-fame. No one’s made the connection.”

Isak has always been a worst case scenario sort of person. “They might.”

“Unless Julian outright states it, which I don’t think he will because most of his fans like you more than they like him, there is no way that they can. There are no photos of you two together on Instagram, no trace that you ever dated once. Also no trace that he’s a fucking asshole, which is a shame.”

“How do you know that?” The question is pointed, a little too much fear seeping into his voice than probably what is necessary.

Even winks. It’s a half hearted deflect at best, and Isak half wants to bring it up, to know if Even thinks Julian is an asshole just because or because he knows what happened before. There’s a pause in the conversation as Isak runs through his options, but before he even opens his mouth Even starts speaking again. “You don’t need to hear what Julian has to say about you.”

“But––” 

“No buts. You don’t. He doesn’t matter anymore.” 

There’s already another but hanging off of the end of Isak’s tongue, but he swallows it down instead when he sees the look on Even’s face. It’s determined and solemn, but there’s enough of a twinkle in his eye and the tiniest hint of a smile now that makes Isak just want to go with him, wherever the hell he wants to go.

“But?” Isak offers up again, but he laughs a little, so that Even knows it’s a joke. Even laughs too. 

Julian is still singing in the background, but Isak doesn’t have the brain power anymore to decipher the lyrics, not when it’s all focused down on where Even’s entangling his fingers with Isak’s. 

“Come with me. Somewhere else. Where you don’t have to put up with this racket.”

Isak nods slowly. “Okay.”

-

The somewhere else ends up being Even’s hotel room, which may or may not also be Isak’s hotel room. He really isn’t sure how the sleeping arrangements are working anymore, because Jonas hasn’t said anything to him further about it. 

But, if he’s here now, maybe it might just be easiest for him to stay. Jonas can deal with it. 

“You hungry?” Even asks, brandishing a room service menu in Isak’s face. Isak smiles back at him.

“You pick. Whatever you think is good.”

“How am I supposed to know what is good? I’ve haven’t been here before.”

“Twenty bucks you had room service for dinner last night and breakfast this morning.” Even’s face drops just enough as Isak says his accusation, leading to the feeling of satisfaction to begin to well up in Isak’s gut. 

“Knew it,” he gloats.

Even rolls his eyes. “What gave it away, the uncollected food trays by the door?” 

“Maybe. Anyway, you’ve been on tours and shit a lot more than I have. What meal is like your default room service meal? Which one do you always get because you know that it’s borderline impossible to fuck up?”

“Definitely burgers.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Burger meat tastes fine as long as it’s cooked past medium.”

Isak rolls his eyes dramatically. “You would  _ really  _ eat a  _ well done steak _ ? Are you kidding?”

“No? That’s my favourite way of cooking it!”

“No!” Isak replies, eyes overly wide in fake shock.

“Do you wanna…” Even stops, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. He’s done it enough today that Isak has worked out it is one of his nervous tics. If he’s honest, Isak finds it quite cute.

“Yeah alright.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!”

“Yeah I do.”

“What was it then?”

“You were gonna ask me if I wanted to…” Isak starts, drawing out his syllables to try and buy himself more time to come up with an excuse. His traitorous brain however, stubbornly remains blank.

Even grins. “See! You don’t know!”

“Uh, no! I so know.”

Even’s face is so close to his now that he can feel his breath on his chin. It doesn’t take much to move forward, to press a soft kiss to the corner of Even’s mouth.

“You were going to ask me if I wanted to spend the night,” Isak whispers. 

Even smiles softly, blinking slowly like he is completely at ease with the situation around him. “Maybe you did know after all.” 

-

It’s almost three am when he wakes up again, this time to a sinking feeling of dread deep in his stomach. He shoots up, clutching his chest to try and bring his breathing back to a regular pattern.

“Baby?” Even whispers blearily from his side of the hotel room bed. 

“Something’s wrong,” he returns, his voice coming out harsher than he means it to be. That’s enough to startle Even awake, his hand immediately reaching out for Isak’s. 

“Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Isak shakes his head. “It’s not me. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Can I do anything?” Even asks, voice still groggy with sleep. He props himself up onto his side, enough that he can look at Isak.

“Just stay with me,” Isak murmurs, giving Even’s hand a squeeze. His heart is still racing, but the simple touch is grounding.

“Okay,” Even scoots closer, until he can pull Isak back against his chest. 

Although he allows Even to cajole him back into sleep, it is restless at best, and the sense of dread doesn’t disappear all throughout the night.

-

“Isak… Isak. Your phone is going off.”

“Yeah, okay. Give me five more minutes.”

“Isak. I really think you should get up. It seems important.”

Reluctantly, Isak cracks his eyes open. Even is standing at the end of the bed in only a towel, and if not for the worried look on his face Isak would definitely be drooling. As is, he can only rub the sleep from his eyes as Even offers out the phone wordlessly.

There’s only one notification on the screen, but it’s enough.

**(6) MISSED CALLS FROM: NURSE MIA**

The sick feeling from last night returns immediately, and he  _ knows.  _

-

The arena they are in is confusing at best, and perhaps if Isak slowed his pace slightly he would actually make it to Jonas faster, but the fear that is pumping through his veins right now forces him onwards in his desperate search for his best friend. By the time he bursts into their dressing room, he’s on the verge of having another panic attack.

“Isak?”

Isak thrusts the phone in Jonas chest, letting go of it before he even registers that Jonas has got a grip on it. “It’s mamma.”

The six missed calls are enough for Jonas to know exactly what has happened too, because he has lived this nightmare right alongside Isak for his whole life. 

“What do you need?”

“I need to go home,” Isak says. There’s no other option. He’s the next of kin.

There is no hesitation in Jonas’ voice when he replies. “Then we’re coming with you.”

“You can’t! You’re on tour.”

“What’s going on?” Magnus interjects.

“Isak’s mamma is sick.”

“Shit,” Magnus’ face crumbles. “When do we leave?”

“You can’t just leave!” Isak protests. “This isn’t—you’re on tour.”

“So?” 

“So you’ve made a commitment to your fans,” Isak says, “and I’m not going to be the reason you disappoint them.”

“Sorry,” Mahdi interjects, standing up from where he was sitting on one of the instrument cases, “but I couldn’t give less of a shit about disappointing anyone. Don’t get me wrong, they’re our fans and I love and appreciate all of them and the support that they give us, but if they’re real about supporting us then they’re gonna support us supporting you when you need it. And right now, you need it.”

-

When he wants to be, Jonas is scary efficient. It’s a skill that he doesn’t use nearly enough in Isak’s opinion, but when it is needed, it is more effective than even what Sana could do. It’s that efficiency that has found him in this meeting, half zoned out with worry about his mamma and half listening to the absolute berating that Jonas is dishing out to Eskild.

“Eskild we  _ are _ suspending the tour.”

“Jonas. I get that you are worried about Isak, and I am too, believe me, but he isn’t part of the band. He isn’t even part of the support team. He’s just a friend of yours that has joined the tour. Now we can pay for his flights home–”

“He’s more than just a fucking friend! He’s my family. He’s our family. Marianne is like our parent too, and we need to go home and be with her.”

Eskild runs a hand over his hair. “Your biggest tour dates are coming up! Las Vegas, Seattle, LA?” 

“We don’t care about a fucking tour, Eskild. We care about Isak, and I don’t give a shit how much we have to pay or whatever to get out of our contracts and shit. We are suspending this tour and we are going home for two weeks,” Magnus all but spits. 

Isak puts a hand on Magnus’ arm, drawing his attention back to him. “Mags, you don’t have to do this for me. I can go home by myself.”

“Fuck you,” Mahdi replies before Magnus gets a chance to, rolling his eyes. “What did we tell you about doing things alone?”

“That I shouldn’t,” Isak forces out a breath. “That I need to… open up more, or whatever.”

“Exactly,” Mahdi nods, placing a hand on Isak’s shoulder. “So let us help you, man.”

“What about the supporting acts? What are they supposed to do for two weeks?” Eskild protests weakly, trying once more to cut in and convince them that they need to stay.

“Even and the girls will come home with us. The support band can come too if they want. Give them a chance to see their families too. We couldn’t give less of a fucking shit what the Penetrators do,” Jonas replies, folding his arms over his chest.

The glint in Jonas’ eye has returned, and Isak can see the cogs spinning around frantically in Eskild’s head as he tries to run through all the different scenarios logistically about how this could end up. But Isak knows that they have won, and the sense of relief that overcomes him is almost suffocating, save from the fact that it is filled with so much love that he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Vilde is going to have a fucking heart attack when she realises the mess she is going to have to clean up from you three,” Eskild says defeatedly, sinking back against the wall. “When do you want to leave?”

“Tonight.”

“Well then, I guess I better get Sana to get you guys on the first flight.” Eskild shrugs. 

“I’m sorry,” Isak offers up, feeling guilty though he knows he shouldn’t. It’s not as if he asked his friends to do this for him, but he still feels responsible.

“I know,” Eskild sighs, his features softening. “For what it’s worth Isak, I really am sorry about your mother.”

“I know Eskild. You were just doing your job, I know that.”

Eskild opens his arms out for Isak to hug him, and for perhaps the first time since Isak and Eskild have known each other, Isak doesn’t hesitate to walk forward and wrap his arms back around Eskild.

“It’s going to be okay Isak. Promise.”

This is the second time that Eskild has comforted him like this, the first after the worst experience of his life. Isak forces himself to push that memory out of his head, and to just accept the comfort that is being offered to him. 

-

**ANNOUNCEMENT FROM THE MANAGEMENT TEAM OF KOLLEKTIVET**

**We regret to announce that the U.S. portion of the Kollektivet World Tour will be suspended for two weeks, effective immediately, due to a personal tragedy.**

**The tour dates this will effect are: Houston, Dallas and Denver. These concerts will be rescheduled at a later date. More information will be emailed directly to the people who are affected by this regarding new tickets or refunds.**

-

The best part about the business class seats on American Airlines, an airline he had never flown before in his life, was the cubicle style layout of the seats. He was completely shut off from his friends, from Even, from everyone who was sharing this plane with him. He leant his head back against the headrest, shutting his eyes to listen to the music blasting in his ears. The tears welled up in the back of his eyes nonetheless.

-

**@memelordmahdi:** what if it’s jonas’ sister? she was hospitalised a few months ago wasn’t she?

**@heartkollektivet replied to @memelordmahdi:** wasn’t that for a broken leg????

**@isakyaki:** the personal tragedy is my mother. please stop speculating about this.

**@sometwitteruser:** how unprofessional that Kollektivet have cancelled their whole tour just for one of their friends #refundplease

**@lovevasquez replied to @magsbagslads:** can u not be so rude u prick! isak is family. if one of the other boys’ family was going through this would you say shit like this? #weloveyouisak

**@kollektivetofficial replied to @magsbagslads:** Check your DMs for information about a refund / new tickets!

-

Isak has always hated hospitals. Everything about them, from the way they smell to the blue lights on the ceiling which just add to the sterile feel, they’ve never been a place he wants to find himself in.

“Do you want any of us to come with you?” Magnus offers.

Isak shakes his head. “I think I need to do this alone.”

“That isn’t because you don’t want to inconvenience us is it?”

“No. I just… I want to do this by myself.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll be waiting out here when you’re done.”

Isak wets his lips, giving a quick jerk of his head to acknowledge that. He appreciates them now more than ever—how here willing to be there for him however he needs. He really doesn’t deserve such amazing friends.

He approaches the door of his mother’s hospital room, his hand lingering on the cool metal knob. Hesitating, he squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to dig deep and find what little courage he possesses. Then, in one quick motion, he pushes open the door and steps inside.

-

There was a time, not long ago, when Isak thought that he would forever be his mother’s caregiver. He’d resigned himself to a life of sorting meds and arguing with healthcare providers. Even when he enrolled into some uni courses, he knew that any thoughts of ever putting a degree to use were a lie he was telling himself to maintain his sanity. 

Then his best friends invited him along for their first European tour, and he agreed to join them for two weeks. He still remembers the thrill of seeing brand new countries for the first time—of going to the Eiffel Tower, eating pizza in Italy, and going on the London Eye. It was that trip that made him yearn for something more, reminded him that there could be so much more to life than what he had.

That experience, the whole tour thing, it changed him, made him realise that he was allowed to want more for his life than just caring for his mother. He wants to do a uni degree, maybe in something other than fucking astrology, he wants to have a house of his own, he wants to keep going on tour with his friends, he wants to see where this thing with Even goes. For the first time, he wants more for himself than just being a caretaker. 

His mother is lying in her hospital bed, the steady beep of the heart monitor and the hiss of the breathing machine the soundtrack to her life now. He pulls up a chair and sits down beside her, entangling his fingers with hers, careful not to disturb her IV drip. 

“Hi mamma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: we stumbled upon a song from the irl kollektivet that sums up our need for validation. maybe give us compliments? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zi8ShAosqzI

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is always appreciated :)


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